


there to see

by Windmire



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Fake Marriage, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-04
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2019-02-10 10:42:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 22,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12910245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Windmire/pseuds/Windmire
Summary: "What do you fucking mean hetalked? He just stood there in that ballroom all 'Hey! Richard Grayson? Went and got married to his wannabe mobster boyfriend 'cause Daddy doesn't approve!' That what he did?"As far as cases go, one where Dick has to pretend to be married to Jason is still not the worst one he's had to take.But it sure is freaking complicated.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is! So late! It was meant to be for day 6 of jaydick week and, well... I won't bore you with the details, but this one hurricane really slowed me down there. Sorry about that!
> 
> Set somewhere in a vague pre-Flashpoint future.

"Everyone else is already there, Man Wonder." Barbara's voice over the comm link is borderline gleeful, just on the edge of a laugh. " _I'm_ already there. What are we all supposed to do here without the host?"

"I'll--" He ducks a punch from one of the goons surrounding him and retaliates with an uppercut. Another down, half a room to go. "--Be there as soon as I can, O. These guys keep--"

Dick grunts, spinning away from another blow, and has the guy on the ground before Babs says anything else.

"I get the picture, kid." Not an ounce of sympathy enters her voice. "But people are going to start asking why _both_ Bruce Wayne and Richard Grayson aren't here."

"Have Red Robin tell them we're skyping or something!" he manages to get out while knocking two goons' heads against each other. "They know he's out of town!" 

"Right, right. That should keep them busy for... Oh, let's say five minutes? Give or take?"

"It'll do," he pants, turning to face the last man standing. "I'll be there before you know it, O."

Dick cracks his knuckles. The guy takes a step back, his eyes widening.

Babs snorts. "You better be. Just don't forget to get that flash drive."

"Will do," he says, turning a smirk on the guy.

"Hey. Hey, Batman," the guy finally speaks, frantically shaking his head as he backs away. Maybe, just maybe, the smirk was a step too far for the guy. "You really don't gotta do this--"

Dick punches him right in the face and calls it a job well done.

-

Another holiday month, another string of Wayne Foundation charity galas. Another string of Wayne Foundation charity galas without Bruce, at that, leaving Dick to host while he's gallivanting off-planet with Robin and the League.

He's been doing that more often than not lately, ever since he left Dick in charge of Gotham to focus his attention on the League.

Joy.

It's a close thing, making it to the ballroom in the manor in time for his speech. But no one really asks him about the delay straight out and he's not about to volunteer any information himself.

Mysterious is the way to go here, after all. If he can just fly under the radar for a few hours now, he'll be home free for at least a few hours, at least long enough to ready himself for the rest of the usual Christmas galas. For now, he just has to keep to himself as much as he can and not look too interested in whatever brewing gossip has so many of the guests looking oddly, and outright _tittering_ , at him tonight.

And not in the usual checking-him-out way.

"Oh, Richard!"

Dick squeezes his eyes shut, just for a moment, and breathes in deep through his nose.

So much for staying under the radar.

Plastering his polite-but-dim-billionaire-heir smile on his face, he whirls around to face the old couple coming up behind him.

"Mr. and Mrs. Zellerbach," he says, making sure to sound surprised. As if he didn't spot them the moment he walked through the door. "It's so good to see you again."

As far socialites go, the Zellerbachs may be more tolerable than the others, but Dick hasn't exactly had a lot of interaction with them. Especially not without Bruce around.

"Oh, the pleasure's all ours, darling," Regina says, all smiles. "Look at you, when was the last time I even saw you? When you were still hiding behind Bruce during these galas?"

"Long enough. He's a grown man now," Robert says with a chuckle. "Bruce isn't even here for this one."

"He's been busy, you know how it is. Here and there for Wayne Enterprises."

"Oh, of course, of course." Regina waves a hand, shaking her head. Her voice drops to a near whisper now, all that gentle affability gone. "We've just been worried, you see. After what happened a few years ago... Oh, he was acting so strangely. And now he travels so much more than he ever did before. It feels like it started right after that, doesn't it, Robert?"

Robert nods and Dick only keeps his smile firmly on in answer, filling the silence by grabbing a champagne flute from a passing server's tray.

Hush's time filling in for Bruce isn't exactly Dick's idea of a good memory.

"And we were just hoping there wasn't some trouble between you two now," Robert picks up where Regina left off, his eyebrows knitting together. "We've been hearing some things..."

Dick takes a sip of his champagne to hide his frown. Well, there goes staying away from whatever people are talking about. And, really, he can't pass up this opportunity either. Batman's been busy working on a case lately, he hasn't exactly had the time to keep up with Gotham gossip.

"You know neither of us pays much attention to rumors," he finally settles on saying, as pleasantly as he can. "People say all kinds of things about Bruce Wayne. If it's about his... relationships, I don't think he's actually dated anyone in a while."

Regina gives him a pitying look. "Oh, no, not that. This is about you, dear. Bruce is safe this time."

And that.

Oh. Talk about _him_. That's never fun.

But it would explain all the lingering looks a bit better than the usual rumors.

Dick takes another sip from his glass. "I'm sorry," he says after a moment. "I haven't heard anything about me."

Regina and Robert share a look.

"Well. You were seen last night, Richard. Leaving that restaurant?"

"And in it, of course..." Robert says in an undertone.

"The two of you looked so cozy," Regina goes on, as if he hadn't spoken. "And a few people asked Pearson about you--it was his party, after all. And..."

_Oh._

Oh, he remembers the restaurant last night.

He'd been in civvies, following the lead that eventually led him to that flash drive tonight. And he had unexpected backup.

The Red Hood, following the same case, a weapons smuggling operation, had ended up following the same lead Dick had.

And Dick had, quite literally, run into him in a corner of the private banquet hall the suspected top dog and his entourage, and dozens of his closest friends, had taken over for the night for his own early Christmas party.

 _Richard Grayson_ didn't exactly have an invite to the party, but it hadn't been hard for him to sneak in and blend in among the guests. He'd planned to gather what he could from mingling with the guy's men, then slink away to check the computers Oracle swore up and down were there, all while staying away from the ringleader, Regina's Pearson himself, who would most definitely recognize him.

Complicated by the fact that a disguise hadn't been an option if he wanted to get into a restaurant that exclusive in the first place.

And that's when he'd bumped into Jason. Who _did_ have an invite.

And Jason... Jason's complicated.

The Batman and the Red Hood have an uneasy truce. But Dick Grayson and Jason Todd's relationship is...

Complicated. Definitely complicated, too.

It had been just their _complicated_ luck to have the host notice them just then: one man with an invitation and one without.

That's when things had gotten creative.

And Dick's blood runs cold.

They'd let the man, already three sheets to the wind by then, come to his own conclusions while they got the information they needed. They'd trusted either he wouldn't remember a thing when he could barely keep anyone's name straight at the time or that they'd be able to take care of any consequences easily enough.

In their haste, they may have miscalculated just how much of a gossip Chase Pearson really is.

He's not sure what expression he's making anymore, isn't even sure what the hell he's feeling, but from the lack of reaction from the Zellerbachs, it can't be anything too out of place.

"And Pearson said...?" he prompts politely, his own voice sounding far away to him.

"Why, he told us the news of course!" Regina laughs. "From the way he put it, we were afraid Bruce wouldn't take it well. And after you took so long talking to him tonight, well, we thought..." She frowns, giving him another pitying look.

Dick can't quite breathe.

"It was all very sudden, we'd understand if..." At a look from his wife, Robert clears his throat. "We just wanted to go straight to you, anyway. Wouldn't want you to find out people know from one of the gossip rags."

They must take his silence as some kind of dismissal, or maybe they just take pity on him, because Regina reaches out to gently take his hand and, in a voice just as gentle, says, "Well, maybe you need a break right now. But..." She smiles at him. "Congratulations to you and Todd, Richard."

They walk away.

All right.

All right. A job _not_ so well done.

He's not sure how long he stands there, staring at the Zellerbachs as they walk away, but he manages to get through the rest of the gala without anyone else confronting him directly about the news. But now that he _knows_ what people are talking about, he catches the murmured well wishes, along with the muffled laughter and disapproving looks.

Great.

He catches Babs giving him _looks_ throughout the night and he's sure it's Tim who he hears laughingly congratulate him from _somewhere_ at some point. But he doesn't quite approach them yet.

He's busy being more than a little glad that Damian's not going to be hearing anything about this anytime soon. And Bruce. Jesus, he doesn't even want to think about Bruce aright now.

It's not even that he's never had to pretend to date someone, or had his supposed love life dissected in all the gossip blogs. It's not even like this will ultimately be any more than just vaguely embarrassing. It's just.

Complicated this time.

By someone who's complicated.

Eventually, he manages to make it back to the Batcave, where Babs and Tim are just finishing up their analysis of the flash drive he brought back.

He's sure he's got _questions_ to answer now, never mind getting brought up to speed on their new info.

"Twenty-Something Wonder..." Babs says slowly, arching an eyebrow at him when he just silently drops down onto the computer chair beside where she's sitting. "What's this I'm hearing about you getting married? You couldn't stick to dating?"

Dick tries not to cringe. Great, someone's said it loud tonight.

"Last night." He groans. "After you tuned out of the channel, Pearson spotted me. And..." He runs a hand through his hair, letting out a weak laugh. "Long story short, guys, _Todd Peters_ told him I was his date so he wouldn't kick me out. And it kind of... snowballed."

Tim snorts, crossing his arms in his own seat. "Now he thinks you're married."

"Something like that..."

"Now everyone who was in his Christmas party, in this gala, and probably everyone who keeps up with Gotham celebrity gossip knows," Babs corrects, looking more than a little fascinated. She lets out a low whistle. "Congrats, Dick. The lucky groom know yet?"

Dick covers his face with his hands and pointedly doesn't answer.

"I'm going to take that as a no. Any chance we can get a retraction out there before tomorrow?"

"I don't know," Tim is saying before Dick even looks up. "I think you're going to have wait a little longer."

He hates that Tim has a point.

"He thinks we just _accidentally_ let slip that we got married, because Bruce doesn't approve of us dating," Dick says reluctantly. "Any kind of denial this fast and they'd think Bruce is mad and we're just trying to do damage control."

He thinks Babs gives him a sympathetic look, before her eyes light up, _something_ clicking in that brain of hers.

Oh boy.

"So..." she says, tapping a finger against her cheek. "You stuck yourselves with this for a few days, at least. Maybe a few weeks. In the eyes of the public, of course."

Dick grimaces. Yeah, they did that, all right.

"We can use this."

Tim practically jumps from his seat, turning wide eyes on Babs. "We can," he says slowly, and Dick can just about see the gears turning in Tim's head.

He can practically see the cave closing in on him with every word.

"With what we've learned tonight, if we could have someone who could stick close to Pearson, a certain couple..."

_No._

"What about that flash drive?" Dick interrupts, hearing the edge of desperation to his own voice. "What did you get from it? Isn't that enough?"

Babs shakes her head and turns to one of the computer monitors, where she brings up the files. "It's got some of the routes they use. And enough information we _could_ shut them down." Then she glances at him, that calculating look he knows all too well on her face. "If this didn't all point at Pearson having an accomplice, too."

Dick's stomach sinks.

Oh no.

"But we're in luck. Thanks to you and your darling husband, we could stay on his tail, and find out enough to shut down his _entire_ operation, accomplice and all," she goes on, smacking her fist against her open palm.

He feels a little faint.

"And if he and Jason go back..." Tim murmurs, raising an eyebrow.

"Then Pearson's going to be feeling _very_ apologetic about this all." Babs shrugs. "Or he's going to be pretending to feel bad about it. Either way, we just need to keep the newlyweds nearby till they find what we want." She turns a smirk on Dick. "Then you can get publicly divorced."

" _Babs_."

"What? Got any better ideas?"

"Probably not." Tim steps over to Dick's chair, leaning against the console. "Pearson's careful, last night and today were lucky breaks. If you guys can get close to him..." Tim shrugs, glancing at Babs.

"Then you can nail the guy," she finishes for him and Dick wishes the ground would just swallow him whole.

"Jason won't go for it," he says.

Tim leans forward. "So convince him. Doesn't he want to take care of this guy, too?"

"You're charming, Dick." And Babs just has to be mocking him. "You can convince him like that." She snaps her fingers. "Take _your husband_ to Pearson's Christmas and New Year's parties. Be seen with him, get our guy to want to talk to you two. Jason'll do it."

Dick groans. Again. Superman probably never has to do this. "Fine. I'll ask him. And if he doesn't like it, we find some other plan that doesn't involve marrying me off."

"But you eloped," Tim says, the smirk in his voice if not on his face.

" _Ugh._ "

-

"Are you fucking kidding me." Jason deadpans the next afternoon and that's.

Actually better than he expected.

After pacing his room in the manor entirely too many times, Dick's gone out to Jason's current safe house--courtesy of the all-seeing Oracle--and cornered him in the kitchen, where Jason's staring at him in sheer and utter disbelief.

Not quite how he'd been planning on spending his day off after the first gala of the month.

"No. He _talked_ , Jason."

"What do you fucking mean he _talked_? He just stood there in that ballroom all 'Hey! Richard Grayson? Went and got married to his wannabe mobster boyfriend 'cause Daddy doesn't approve!' That what he did?"

" _Apparently_ , Jason."

"Jesus! Thank fucking Christ B isn't even on Earth right now..." he hears Jason mumble as he turns around to rummage through one of his drawers. "I thought he'd be too freakin' drunk to remember any of it."

"Or too scared of Wayne money to talk too much. We thought wrong." Dick crosses his arms, but lets his tone soften. "It's not like none of us has ever had to deal with this kind of thing before. Just..." He grimaces. "Not exactly like this."

Jason grunts.

"Right now it's nothing we can't handle. We could just ignore it and pretend he's making it up, but..."

Jason sighs and slams the drawer shut, his entire posture just radiating exhaustion. "Lemme guess. You wanna keep everyone thinking we're married. _Why_?"

Dick shifts on his feet. "Look, I don't like it either, but we still gotta nail the guy _and_ his whole operation. If there's an accomplice, we can't shut him down for good with them still running around. And if we can make him feel indebted to the couple he _accidentally_ outed..." Dick knows it makes sense. Babs and Tim were right, but goddamn does it feel _wrong_ to just say it like this, especially while Jason isn't even facing him.

"Then we can find a way to nail the guy." Jason shakes his head, sounding resigned, and turns back around to face him, hands on either side of him on the counter. "So what? You get to be my arm candy while we get Pearson to talk?"

Dick frowns. "Something like that. Babs suggested we go to his other two parties this month. Todd Peters _did_ get invites to those, didn't he?"

"Yeah. Christmas Eve and New Year's."

Because he just can't help himself, "That's a terrible fake name, you know."

"Yeah." Jason grins now, cheeky. It's not quite a full grin, still a little tired around the edges, but even so, Dick's a little relieved to see it. "Hiding in plain sight."

Dick snorts. "Well, if Todd Peters can take time away from hiding to agree to this, he can take down a weapons smuggler _and_ have a nasty, messy divorce from Richard Grayson after it's over."

Jason crosses his arms and taps a finger against his chin, making a show of thinking it over.

"I want half your shit." He narrows his eyes. "No. Two thirds of your shit."

"Didn't we sign a prenup?" Dick asks lightly, forcing the grin off his face. No, he is definitely not encouraging Jason _that_ much.

Jason arches an eyebrow at him. "We eloped to piss Daddy off, there was no fucking prenup. It's messy all the way down."

Dick sighs, loudly, and tries not to think about the fact that he _is_ definitely encouraging Jason that much. "Guess that's what I get for getting married just to piss someone off."

"Yeah, yeah, let it be a lesson."

He rolls his eyes. And he could go on like this. He could play along a little more, say his goodbyes, turn right back around, and leave, but. There was one more thing Babs suggested the night before.

He takes in a breath, steadying himself. "Okay. If we're gonna do this... How do you feel about staying in the penthouse with me until the New Year?"

"What."

Dick licks his lips. "Babs' idea. Play the part and lay low all at once. No one can get too close to us the rest of the time and no one can say we're not actually together."

Jason narrows his eyes at him. "I don't like it."

Yeah. Dick kind of figured. He's not so sure he likes it himself. "If you don't wanna do it, we can figure out something else."

Jason stares at him, lips downturned, and answers, "I didn't say I'm not doing it. I get why she suggested it." He uncrosses his arms, huffing out a breath. "I just don't like it."

"That afraid of staying with me?" he asks, tone light.

He thinks the joke he meant to make gets lost somewhere in his throat.

Jason gives him a flat look. And completely ignores that. "I'm blaming you if it all goes sideways."

"I can live with that."

-

And he can. Really. He'd just rather not think about anything like what their sham of a marriage will entail just yet.

So Dick lies low the next day, sticking to his rarely used Gotham apartment for most of the day. He contacts Barbara and the manor a few times, helping to refine the plan they're stitching together.

And he doesn't contact Jason.

He does spare a moment to be grateful, _again_ , that Bruce and Damian are off-planet for the foreseeable future, where they won't be hearing about any of this.

Sure, they'll miss Christmas and the New Year, but Dick won't have to explain why he's pretending to be married to Jason Todd, of all people.

By the time the afternoon comes around though, he can't put everything off any longer. He grabs his bag--a light one, he still practically lives in the penthouse--and heads for Wayne Tower.

Time to face the music.

Jason is already there when he arrives, giving himself a tour of the penthouse. And his shoulders are a tense line, his mouth a wry twist, but he's _here_.

Dick can admit to himself that he was kind of half-expecting him not to show at all.

When Dick steps into the hall, Jason stops at the threshold to one of the bedrooms and turns to face him. "Honey, I'm home," he deadpans.

"Thought that was supposed to be my line," Dick answers with what he's not sure passes as a smile, dropping his bag at the threshold to his own room.

Jason rolls his eyes. "Right. Fine. _Honey_ , welcome home. After I spent _so_ long waiting for you." He leans against the doorway, arching an eyebrow at Dick. "This kind of thing from you, no wonder we're getting a divorce."

Dick rolls his eyes right back. "After I spent all day out working to keep you comfortable?" He presses a hand to his chest, raising an eyebrow. " _Darling_ , I'm hurt."

" _Pfft._ You don't have a job. I'm the one doing all the illegal backroom deals while you live off Daddy's money."

Dick snorts a laugh. "The illegal backroom deals an ex-cop shouldn't be hearing about?"

The glimmer of amusement in Jason's eyes is evident for just a moment then, before he covers it up by dragging a hand down his face. "Like I said. This is why we're getting divorced, Richie."

Despite himself, Dick grins.

Then stops, forcing himself to sober. Much as he'd rather not deal with any of this, they do have a job to do and he can't let himself forget it. "Right, but if we're getting divorced, we should probably actually meet first, huh? How _did_ we do that?"

The smile playing at the edges of Jason's lips disappears then. "Yeah," he says at length, his shoulders tensing again. Dick hadn't even realized he relaxed during their conversation. "Let's get this over with."

When Jason just stands there, not quite looking at Dick and not speaking, he moves to silently lead Jason to the living room, where he takes a seat on an armchair.

Jason drops down on the couch across from him, and does a damn good job of making his sprawl look casual and unconcerned, feet kicked up as he leans against the arm of the couch. Really, he manages to make a damn convincing image. To the untrained eye.

But from his perch across from him, Dick can see the way his shoulders are tenser than before, the way the fingers of his left hand clench just a little too tightly around the fabric of his pants. 

Amazingly, _that's_ what has Dick's own shoulders lowering, what loosens the coiled tension in his gut just a fraction.

Shit, this is why he tries not to spend too much time around Jason.

"So..." he says slowly, when it looks like Jason isn't about to start.

Jason's head immediately snaps up to look at him.

He clears his throat. "If we eloped so quickly to piss Bruce off, then we probably haven't been dating long, have we?"

Jason frowns, nodding slowly. "Yeah, Richie and Todd can't have known each other for too long yet. Maybe a few months? They met, shit, I don't know. At some party?"

Dick nods. "Richie wastes his time in some high society party and Todd's trying to weasel his way into connections."

Jason hums in answer. "Let's say that was a few months ago. Three."

Dick props his chin up on his hand, raising an eyebrow. "So, a whirlwind romance? How romantic, Jason."

"Jesus, _shut up_."

Dick grins. "So, a whirlwind romance," he repeats, grinning all the wider at the dirty look Jason gives him. "And they're... intense, yeah?"

"I guess. If they're getting married already, then they've probably been all over each other the whole time, like..." He rolls his eyes. "Jesus, like we were at the party. The most obnoxious couple you've ever met."

"Makes sense," Dick says, and tries to pretend he doesn't hear the way his voice comes out just the slightest bit strained. "Explains why we can both get into anything one of them's invited to, if they can barely stand to be apart. And we did..." Jesus, all right, he has to think about this. Thanks, Babs and Tim. "We did kind of play it up during Pearson's party."

"Tell me about it," Jason mumbles, an odd note to his voice.

Dick very carefully does not try to read anything into it.

And very carefully pushes away the memory of Jason's arms around him, of the feel of Jason's jaw and cheek under his lips.

 _Jesus_.

"So," Dick goes on, and manages to force a bright smile. "Todd and Richie are a whirlwind in a whirlwind romance."

"And they'll crash and burn," Jason says dryly, lips quirked in a lopsided smile of his own.

"Mom did always tell me not to date criminals," Dick says lightly.

Jason gives him a look.

Dick doesn't dignify it with a response.

After that, it's not long until they've got their plan of action more or less squared away, ready for the next party they'll need to show up to.

And, just as shortly, Jason excuses himself to his own room.

Dick stops him with a hand to his wrist, halfway out of his seat. "Jason. Really. Thanks for doing this. I know we haven't always--"

"Save it," he snaps, cutting him off. He pauses and, in a marginally gentler tone, goes on, "I know, Dickie. It's fine, we just gotta nail the guy."

"And flex our acting skills."

"And flex our acting skills," he agrees.

-

The next two weeks are... odd.

Batman goes out at night, the Red Hood goes out at night, but the two of them never seem to run into each other the way they might normally. The way that maybe, just maybe, Dick might have found himself half looking forward to and half dreading at times.

Maybe.

Dick and Jason, on the other hand, lie low and only ever seem to talk to each other obliquely, half as themselves, half as Todd and Richie. And it's a real unique experience, exchanging tense words and tense silences with someone one second, then trading quips and pet names the next, joking about a wedding that never actually happened.

The rest of the time, Dick keeps himself busy, only occasionally spending time with Babs, Tim, or Steph. He keeps an eye on the phone he gives out as his "personal" line to the usual society idiots. No one congratulates him on his supposed marriage, no one outright mentions it, not when it's still not much more than a rumor. But he gets a few messages, a few calls dropping hints here and there, fishing for what he's been doing lately when they'd usually never care, asking about Bruce more than usual, and.

Yeah. People are talking.

Before he can get too into it though, he finds that they're already preparing for their first planned appearance in public.

And Dick's more nervous than he has any right to be.

It's just an undercover job like any other. It's something he should be able to do no problem.

But he can't seem to shut his damn brain off.

No matter what he does, no matter what he tries to think about, his thoughts circle back to the same damn thing.

Just a few hours until he has to pretend to be married to Jason Todd for a few hours.

Christ.

"I don't know about that tie," Jason says to him in the penthouse hall, when Dick walks out of his room and closes the door behind him.

He hears Jason's tone, thinly veiled amusement, and rolls his eyes.

"But, _darling_ ," he says, sickly sweet. "My dad gave me this tie."

"And here I thought you were trying to piss him off with me, _sweetheart_."

Dick bats his eyelashes. "Aw, Todd, he'll come around and see how much we love each other eventually."

Jason snorts. "Maybe on the day we file for divorce, Richie."

Dick breaks out his best sad eyes. "Oh, sweetheart, don't talk like that! My dad'll come around to our _everlasting_ love."

Jason looks away, visibly holding back laughter. "Never say that to me again, Dickface."

"Then the tie's staying," Dick says with a grin, brushing past him to the foyer. "You know our game plan?"

"Of course I know our fucking game plan. You play the idiot, I play the kiss-up, somehow we get 'im to feel bad enough to slip up and cough up his accomplice's name." He scoffs. "Do I know our game plan..." He trails off, grabbing his suit jacket off the chair by the door. "Now shut up and come on, Richie. I'm taking you somewhere nice."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! ♥ Next two chapters soon, hopefully.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the kudos, comments, and bookmarks on the first chapter! This fic got so much more of a response than I was expecting! Seriously, I was totally blown away.
> 
> Anyway, I kind of wanted to have this out by Christmas. That obviously didn't happen, oops.

Richard Grayson enters Chase Pearson's Christmas Eve party on Todd Peters' arm, pleasant smile firmly on his face.

Dick Grayson pretends not to notice the whispers or the sidelong glances he and Jason get--or the too wide, too oily smiles, for that matter.

He presses close to Jason as they enter today's restaurant--a different one from last time, of course--and it's simple enough to fall into his assigned role, that of the billionaire heir, oblivious to just how connected his new husband's dubiously legal job is to the party's host.

(And just _how_ dubiously legal it all is, at that.)

It's simple enough with Jason at his side, to focus on the now and play his own part perfectly.

An arm snug around Dick's waist, he leads him further into the room, not breaking his stride even when he greets the other guests he recognizes. He spares a nod for one person Dick recognizes as a business associate of Pearson's, a wave for someone else Dick can't quite place. But the whole time, his attention's seemingly fully on Dick, the perfect smitten newlywed.

"I've got eyes on you two," Oracle's voice comes through the comms, loud and clear, and Dick tears his eyes away from Jason, pretending he's admiring the banquet hall.

Right. The job.

"No sign of Pearson yet though," she goes on when Jason leads them to a stop by an empty table. "Go mingle."

"Gotcha," he answers in an undertone, disguising the sound and movement by ducking his head closer to Jason's. "Got an ETA for us?"

"Working on it, Man Wonder." She hums softly, unconcerned. "His car's still not in the parking lot, I'm guessing he's going for fashionably late."

"He does like to make an entrance," Jason mumbles, resting his chin on the crown of Dick's head. "Always does it the same damn way, too, far as I can tell. Just let us know if you see him."

"Will do."

Then it's time for Richie and Todd to mingle with a group of some other wannabe and not-so-wannabe mobsters.

Dick lets Jason lead the conversation at first, settling for getting noticed first, for making sure everyone sees Todd Peters' got someone on his arm. But Richie isn't one to stay silent for long and, soon enough, Dick's jumping in. And it's all large movements, loud laughter, and loud questions as Jason introduces him to Peters' "friends."

Loud questions about their work that the other guests and Jason tiptoe around for Dick's benefit, more and more the more Dick makes reference to it. Can't have any of their spouses or families knowing too much, can they?

Although. Huh. Maybe they can make the story about their divorce about how he didn't know the full extent of what Todd gets up to. That'd work nicely.

If nothing else, his reputation helps him here. He gets a few rolled eyes here and there that he pretends not to notice, a few mutters, but the conversation flows easily enough and no one seems to suspect what he's really getting at. Though they inevitably veer back to insignificant small talk.

Frustratingly enough.

A few more people wander by, bringing with them some faces Dick can recognize without Jason's help.

Now they're talking.

"So! Richard!" one of the women they're speaking to--Stacy Reed, Pearson's niece, his mind supplies--says brightly. "You and Todd, _how_ long have you been together again?"

Dick puts on his most charming smile and says easily, "A few months. Maybe around..." He looks up at Jason through his lashes, letting his smile turn sappy. "Three months, give or take, right, babe?"

He smiles inwardly at the choked sound Reed just barely muffles.

"More or less," Jason answers, making a show of pulling Dick closer against his side. "We just didn't wanna wait any longer, if we were already sure."

"I see. Uh, this might seem like too forward of a question..." she starts, raising a hand to cover her mouth. Stacy Reed definitely didn't inherit her uncle's subtlety. In a lower voice, she goes on, "But what about Mister Wayne? He was okay with this, right?"

Oh, showtime.

Dick scoffs, letting his lip curl. "My _father_ isn't the best person to talk to about this kind of thing. If we listened to him..." He untangles himself from Jason's grasp, crossing his arms across his chest. "Well, we probably wouldn't be here tonight. Probably wouldn't even be talking to each other." He sniffs, letting a touch of reluctance enter his voice. "So I'm sorry to say he doesn't approve."

"Babe," Jason says, cajoling. "Who cares what he thinks? He doesn't matter."

"Maybe I want him to get it, Todd," Dick counters, narrowing his eyes. "He's my dad, he should be happy for us." He lowers his voice. "But maybe this will all finally make him think about what he's doing."

"Yeah, that'll teach him," Babs mutters in his ear. "Really piss him off."

He bites back a grin.

Reed lets out a nervous laugh. "I see," she says, fiddling with the wine glass in her hands. "My uncle did tell me there was some trouble, but I didn't think... Well, I didn't think it was very serious... " She shifts uncomfortably and Dick almost wishes he could take pity on her. "Why get married though, if you've got this whole... thing? With him? I mean, if everyone knows, he has to be even more upset."

Dick glances at Jason, a split second of eye contact. Jason nods, almost imperceptibly. He's sure Pearson's told her, hell, told everyone, a lot more than that about their supposed motives, but they've got a cover story for a cover story to stick with.

"No one else was supposed to find out yet," Dick answers, rueful. "I guess we just weren't careful enough..." A smile now, just shaky enough at the edges to be believable. "But I'm still sure this was the right choice."

"I'm sure," she murmurs, sounding not the slightest bit convinced. "I, well, I should go though. It really was nice meeting you, Richard. I'll tell my uncle you're here when he arrives, Todd, he wanted to know," she finishes with a meaningful look at Jason.

Dick waits until Reed's moved on to another group to turn to Jason, who surreptitiously pulls him over to the edge of the group they'd been mingling with.

Or not so surreptitiously, judging by the titters they get when Jason pulls him over to his side again

"Nice work," Dick murmurs into Jason's jaw before he can think better of it.

"Just part of the job," Jason answers, sliding his arms around Dick's waist.

"So, telling her uncle," Dick goes on, resting his own hands on Jason's arms. "That about work or about an apology?"

"Good question." Jason taps his fingers against Dick's waist, considering. "Might be both," he says, resting his head on Dick's shoulder. "Pearson outs our little marriage plan to everyone, he feels bad enough to finally actually let me work for him."

"Works out really nicely for us."

Jason's only response is a gusty laugh, pressed against Dick's neck.

Dick shivers.

All part of the act. Really.

"Todd!"

Though maybe Jason's playing the role just a little too perfectly, Dick concedes to himself just then, when they're stopped by one of Todd Peters' _friends_ and the attention eases off Dick again. Jason's just a little _too_ good at pretending to be head over heels, at looking at Dick like he's the only person in the world.

But that's... probably not the kind of thing he should be focusing on. With a show of reluctance, Dick and Jason pull away from each other, turning to face the newcomer.

He takes in a deep breath. He knew this was a bad idea.

"Todd!" the man says again. "Christ, Peters, I thought I'd never see you again!" He looks at Jason, then looks at Dick. "Shit, am I interrupting?"

"Mitchell!" Jason says, ignoring that question, and Dick lets himself be dragged over to meet the guy he recognizes as Geoff Mitchell, another man in much the same position as Todd Peters supposedly is. And one of Todd's closest allies in this whole business, at that. "This is Geoff Mitchell, babe," he says, turning to look at Dick. "We work together. And he says weird shit like that." He turns a roguish grin on Mitchell now. "Why the hell not? I haven't gone anywhere!"

Mitchell lets out a bark of laughter. "Why the hell not? Todd, Todd! You've gone where I can't fucking follow you. Getting married? Jesus, man, what am I supposed to do now with you becoming a two-headed monster."

Dick raises his eyebrows, widening his eyes slightly.

It takes a moment, but Mitchell notices him, letting out an awkward laugh. "Not that I, uh, meant to find out from the gossip. And no disrespect to your man here either, Peters," he says, just as awkward. "Just wasn't expecting it, is all. I mean, _you_..."

Casually, Jason grabs Dick's hand, bringing it up to press his lips to the back of it.

"Kinda took us all by surprise," Jason says easily, while Dick's tries to remember how to breathe. Really, that much is the truth. "This time six months ago I didn't think I'd be getting married ever. Then I met Richie and..." He looks straight at Dick as he says it, a silent request in them.

Ah. Right.

"And after we met," Dick picks up, forcing his lips into a smile. "Things just kind of went from there, you know? I'd never met anyone like Todd before. I guess I just..." He trails off, letting Mitchell form his own conclusions, and leans up to press another kiss to Jason's cheek.

"I heard a rumor about Grayson's daddy though." Here he looks straight at Jason. "You guys doing all right with that?"

Dick grimaces. "Don't worry," he says dismissively. Another tactic for this conversation. "He'll get it."

"Gotcha," Mitchell says slowly, though he's still looking at Jason. "Then I guess you guys can make it to after the New Year's party? No angry fathers-in-law making you come back before midnight?"

Dick frowns, looking up at Jason. After?

"After?" Jason asks, echoing his thoughts. "You got some afterparty you didn't tell me about?"

Mitchell pales, going very, very still. "Crap. Did he not invite you, Todd?" he whispers, barely moving his lips.

"Guess not," Jason drawls. "This something I'm not supposed to know about?"

"Uh. No! No, no, it's just..." He looks away, a pained smile on his face. "You know, getting together for a few drinks, talking 'bout work. Nothing you, uh... wouldn't need to find out about?"

Dick's beginning to see why Jason cultivates the image of friendship with Mitchell. He taps lightly on Jason's chest without looking away from their companion, a silent question. _Something you knew about?_

With a minute shake of his head, Jason's arm tightens around Dick's waist briefly, an answer. _Nope._

"That's funny, Geoff, 'cause I've never heard of it. I take it it's real exclusive?"

"Uh... Something like that. Not that it's, uh, important. But I just gotta, uh, I just meant..."

Interesting.

"Grayson," a sickly sweet voice interrupts them just in time, in a tone he thinks might have been aiming for _pleasantly surprised_ , but landed on _wooden_. "It's so good to see you again."

Mitchell looks over Jason's shoulder and takes in a breath, a suspiciously relieved one, at that. "Ma'am," he mutters. "Ma'ams."

How convenient for him.

Dick raises an eyebrow and tugs lightly on Jason's arm without turning to look at the newcomers just yet. "Darling," he stage whispers. "I think someone's trying to get our attention."

"Someone who knows _you_. Told ya you'd make friends quick," Jason stage whispers back.

Mitchell gives them a strained smile. "Well, if you're making friends with Missus Hyland, I better leave. Wouldn't wanna interrupt!"

Without even waiting for either of them to respond, Mitchell turns tail and practically _runs_ away from them.

Even more interesting.

He can't say he remembers the name Hyland, but Dick tugs on Jason to turn around with him to face whoever seems to know him here... And finds one woman he recognizes as Pearson's assistant and one woman he does not recognize at all.

Dick smiles, polite but bemused. "I'm sure it's good to see you again, too, Miss..."

"You don't remember me," the taller of the two--Hyland, apparently--says in a vaguely surprised tone, a hand on her hip. She's the one who spoke, he realizes. "But Brucie knows me. I'm Eva Hyland. I used to work for him. Did he not..." She frowns. "Oh, I get it. Brucie probably didn't want to talk about me again after he _fired me_.

At Dick's carefully blank smile, Pearson's assistant speaks up, just as carefully blank, "She was head of security for Wayne Enterprises for several years, Mister Grayson. She's Mister Pearson's head of security now."

Oh, Bruce. Just what did he inadvertently get them into.

"I'll dig up what I can on her. This wasn't in our file," Barbara whispers, then falls silent again.

Smiling sharply, her dark eyes fixed on the two of them, Eva waves a hand dismissively, looking more like she's greeting a crowd than waving away unpleasant memories. "I do wish Brucie would talk to me about it. But let's not talk about that, shall we? As nice as it would be to catch up, I'm afraid it's Todd we're here for."

Pearson's assistant steps forward, saying quietly, "Mister Pearson would like to extend an invitation to you for his get-together after his New Year's party, to discuss business with you, Mister Peters. Mister Grayson..." She cuts her eyes to Dick. "He may accompany you. Mister Pearson would like to speak with you as well."

"Must be real important if the message needs the head of security with it," Jason drawls. "And so in advance."

Hyland smiles sweetly. "Something like that. But that's all the time we have for today, boys." She looks down at the assistant beside her. "What was that about the back now, dear..."

The assistant nods at them, before turning on her heel, followed by Hyland. "Just the security there..."

"New lead?" Dick whispers once they're alone and isn't sure whether he's referring to Hyland herself or her mysterious security there.

"Oh, yeah."

-

Dick loses track of just how many people he has to play nice with, and just how long he spends digging for information.

"No sign yet?" Dick asks during a quiet moment.

"No," Oracle answers. "His car's nowhere I can see yet. I'm thinking maybe Christmas isn't his priority this year, after all." He hears a soft tapping sound from her end and can just about picture the pen in her hand. "I am noticing some awfully suspicious behavior in the backrooms though. And seeing as that was what Miss Head of Security was about to look into... Think you can squeeze in some investigating before he finally shows? A little more hands on this time."

"A little more hands on," Jason repeats.

"Yeah, as in, get to snooping, Mister and Mister Grayson-Peters," Tim chimes in for the first time that night, sounding slightly out of breath, like he's just arrived from running into the Batcave.

Jason rolls his eyes. "What kinda suspicious activity we talking though?" he asks, ignoring Tim.

"A lot more movement in the break room than there probably should be. As in, people who don't look like employee restaurants. Think you can get close?"

"You know it." Dick polishes off the rest of the wine in his glass in one go and looks up at Jason. "We slip away again?"

"Together this time." Jason carefully plucks the wine glass from Dick's hand and sets it down, drawing him close with the other. "Ready?"

Dick throws his arms around Jason's neck, taking a deep breath. "All right. You thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Probably," Jason answers, leaning in to rest his forehead against Dick's. "Now?"

Dick swallows. "Yeah." He tugs on the hand Jason's holding on to, turning them to lace their fingers together. "Let's give them a show."

Jason wraps his free arm around Dick's waist--a sensation that's steadily growing more familiar than it probably should be--and pulls Dick flush against him. "Where to?" 

Dick feels the words more than he hears them.

"Bathrooms are convenient. Employee door right by them."

Jason grins, slow. "We really doing bathrooms? Brucie Wayne's son's that kind of person?"

"He doesn't care," Dick breathes.

"Gotcha."

Dick tries not to examine the frisson of excitement that thrums through him at Jason's tone, low and rough.

Jason's hand at Dick's waist inches lower down, and Dick makes sure to laugh, untangling their hands to run one through Jason's hair. He schools his face into a lazy grin and nuzzles up against Jason's jaw, just as Jason's other hand creeps up under Dick's suit jacket.

It's when Jason's pretending to get more and more handsy that Dick chances a glance out of the corner of his eye, finding just the reactions--rolled eyes, stifled laughter, averted gazes--he'd been hoping for.

So with a breathless laugh, Dick lets Jason pull him further back, back up to the wall, then the narrow hallway to the left.

Once out of sight from the main room, Jason crowds him up against the wall and buries his face in the crook of Dick's shoulder, to another breathless laugh from him.

"Well, this is cozy," Babs says suddenly.

Fuck.

" _Babs!_ " Dick hisses, cheeks growing warm, and pushes at Jason's chest. "Never mind, we're good, the coast is clear," he babbles, pulling away when Jason backs off.

"I'm surprised you noticed."

"So," Jason says loudly, following Dick's brisk pace through the employee door. "Any suggestions, O?"

"Just one. Don't get seen."

"Anything else?"

"They've cleared out of the break room, so... Find someone's phone?" Tim suggests, tone dripping with insincerity. "If you're not too busy."

"Shut it, Replacement." Jason stops beside Dick two doors, a short hallway, and another door later, in what's the recently vacated break room from the looks of it. "Looks like it's all hands on deck tonight," he mutters, getting a silent nod from Dick in answer, before turning his attention back to Tim. "Sure, we go and find someone important's phone. Hell, maybe even Pearson's! But I really don't think he's going to have a memo labeled _weapons smuggling,_ you know."

"Maybe text messages." Dick shrugs. "He's not stupid enough to have anything obvious, but we could get a better feel for his movements. _If_ he even used his own phone for this. And _if_ we could even find it."

Jason's lips twitch up in a smile. "So I'm guessing that's a no on humoring the Replacement?"

"Don't call him that," Dick says absentmindedly. "And yeah, it's a no." He nods at the small table in the center of the room instead, vaguely registering Tim's protest on the comms. "Let's see if they left anything behind."

They didn't.

They don't.

A good half an hour later, and they know just about as much as they did when they slipped away.

Oh, there are plenty of documents left behind, plenty of things that looked like they were dropped in a hurry, but not a single thing to help them.

Not even any employee names anywhere, nothing that could lead them somewhere substantial.

"Shit," Dick whispers, setting aside his latest find: a torn piece of paper on the bulletin board, proclaiming itself to be _a list of essential employees for the Christmas party_.

The names are what's been torn off.

"You ever get the feeling," Jason begins slowly, coming up behind Dick. "...Someone's been expecting you?"

Dick scowls. "Like now?"

He gets a grunt in response.

"Hey, guys?" Barbara's voice cuts in, sounding just the slightest bit off. "We have an issue."

Dick sighs. "Yeah, we kinda noticed, O."

"A different one. Someone's broken their routine today." There's a pause, where Tim's voice rings out in the distance over the comms, words undecipherable. "Pearson's made his entrance."

"What," Jason hisses, already on his way back to the door.

"Get out there again. Quick."

Dick follows right after him, pushing back his initial reaction. "Right." He runs a hand through his hair. "Let's give him a show, too, while we still can."

Jason laughs, the sound nowhere near actually amused. "Wow, don't sound so excited. The big bad Bat can't handle a petty arms smuggler?"

Dick purses his lips. "This big bad Bat would like to get the petty arms smuggler segment of today's entertainment out of the way. And he's just as annoyed at this as you are, cut it out."

They're silent then, until they reach the door leading back to the hallway with the bathrooms, where Dick stops, loosening his tie. "It's pretty weird when _you_ call me that," he says, nowhere near as casual as he'd been aiming for.

Then he's out the door before Jason can answer, a lazy smile on his face as he reenters the party proper, just a step ahead of Jason.

Nobody pays them any more mind than they expected.

And there's Pearson, already the center of attention.

And their hopes for another lead.

Not that those hopes last for long.

In the end, they get little more than a handful of minutes to talk to Chase Pearson. He's oh so been looking forward to talking to Todd, he says. And he reiterates his invitation for New Year's, makes thinly veiled inquiries about Bruce. And carefully slithers out of answering their own hinted questions. And out of talking to Jason about _work_.

Dick finds his smiles turning a little thinner by the end, hears Jason's laughter turn quieter and quieter.

Until he's gritting his teeth by the end, the smile on his face beginning to feel painful. Until Jason goes silent entirely, his hand flexing at Dick's side.

Constrained as they are by their assigned roles...

They get shit-all from the guy.

Great.

-

Jason drives them back to the penthouse, while Dick goes over their info on his Oracle-approved tablet.

"It's not much," he says reluctantly.

With a roll of his eyes, Jason points out, "Yeah, but it's what we've got to work with. Hit me."

"We've got some preliminary suspects, an in for the oh so super secret part of his next party... and a suspicion he might be messing with us," he finishes wryly. "I think your extra invitation's going to help us the most, but that last part's probably important."

Jason snorts, sounding marginally more cheerful than he did when they got in the car. "You think?" He drums his fingers on the steering wheel. "Good thing I got that invite, then." 

"Might mean he's planning to mess with us some more though," Dick says absentmindedly, scrolling further down on the tablet. "With how we found out."

"You mean you thought it was real damn convenient that Mitchell spilled the beans right before I got that _exclusive invitation_." It's not really a question.

"I'd say it's just as convenient as that break room."

"I thought you'd say that." He smiles grimly out at the road, pulling onto the bridge that will take them to Wayne Tower. "So I guess the real question is why us, Dickie? We done anything that'd look suspicious to him?"

Dick worries his bottom lip, underlining the words _suspects us?_ on the tablet. And once more, for good measure. "I don't know yet. I thought we covered my being there last time pretty cleanly, so unless someone else has gone and talked..." Dick trails off, eyes widening.

That's when it hits him. _Shit_. Of course. " _Bruce_ ," he breathes, dragging a hand down his face. "It has to be because of Bruce."

Which means it's because of _him_ , he realizes, a sinking feeling in his stomach. Todd Peters didn't have any public connection to Bruce Wayne until this month. Alone, he probably wouldn't have found everything conveniently missing.

Jason glances over at him and the confusion stealing across his features quickly disappears. He always did catch on quick. "Hyland."

"Hyland," Dick agrees. "She's gotta be thinking we're up to no good _for her_ if we're connected to Bruce. She seemed really sure at first I'd recognize her." He snaps his fingers. "O, you dig anything up on how she left Wayne Enterprises yet?"

She hums in answer. "Working on it. Wayne Enterprises has an employee file for her, but the reason for termination given just says there were _differences_."

Jason laughs. "She get fired or get divorced from the company?"

"Ask Bruce," Babs says, and Dick can just picture her rolling her eyes. "I've got Tim digging through his files with me now, I'll let you know later."

"Thanks, O."

There's silence for a beat. Dick debates his next words in his head, turns them over again and again.

"It's my fault," Dick says suddenly. It's still not what he meant to say. "She tipped Pearson off somehow. If I hadn't shown up like that last time..."

Jason clicks his tongue. "The fuck? No. Richie Grayson's a fucking idiot, why should your being here fuck anything up?"

Dick shakes his head. "Because we handled this badly from the start," he says, tone firm.

Jason doesn't say anything for a moment. Dick looks up at him, finds him staring out at the road again, lips pressed together. And his breath catches in his chest. He watches the way the lights play across Jason's face, his profile weaving in and out of the near darkness inside the car, his eyes all the brighter.

He swallows.

Focus.

"We should have looked into everyone from the start. Made sure there weren't any connections that could screw us over," he hears himself say, forcibly drawing his attention back to their _problem_.

" _We did_. I know I didn't imagine the pile of papers you printed out on everyone we know of that works for the guy. They were the only thing you'd talk about for half of last week!"

"Then we obviously didn't look deep enough if we still missed that connection!"

"Bullshit."

" _Look_. The fact is we probably could have stood to find more today," Dick says, reaching for every shed of calm he can find. "If we'd been more careful."

Jason's jaw clenches, his fingers tightening around the steering wheel, but he doesn't look away from the road as he answers in a tone that's just too even, "Okay, _Batman_. Next time I'll just freaking ask him if he knows anyone related to my _father-in-law_."

" _Jason_ ," Dick sighs, setting the tablet down on his lap. He forces his voice to remain steady, collected. "I don't think saying we could have done better is asking a lot."

"Uh huh." There's a warning in Jason's tone that Dick resolutely ignores. "Yeah, we shoulda' seen it coming. Shoulda' just ditched what we got and camped out waiting for him to pull the wool over our eyes. But, wait. That'd still have you like this, huh? Can't have anything if it isn't your way, can't we, Batman?"

Dick starts. "That's not what I--"

"But, oh, I forgot," Jason says right over him. "You don't like me calling you Batman, do I?"

Dick can feel _something_ \--his temper, maybe--begin to fray. "That's not what I meant, Jason. Are you seriously getting on my case for that?"

Jason takes a turn just a little more sharply than the last one. "I'm just saying, Dick. You're kinda sending mixed messages here."

Dick blows out a breath. "Jason, _I'm_ just saying. We're here to do a job. That's why we're going through this whole thing, right? We can't let him play us like this again next time. As soon as Oracle gets us those files, I'll figure out how you can--"

" _Jesus Christ_ ," Jason interrupts him. "Since when are you the one calling the shots here? _I thought_ we were working together, Dickhead."

"We _are_. Our plan just needs some tweaking. You know him better than I do, you could just--"

" _Jesus_ \--"

"--Just what is your problem?" he finally blurts out, startling even himself. "You're usually all about the job being perfect, what's the problem now?"

Jason recovers instantly. "My problem is _you_. That you sound just like him! Jesus, you know just because you wear his fucking hand-me-downs it doesn't _make_ you him, right, Golden Boy?" he practically spits.

Dick digs his fingers into the leather of his seat, at a loss for words for one brief moment. "That has nothing to do with anything, Jason," he says through gritted teeth. "I'm not him and I'm not trying to be."

The laugh he gets in response makes his teeth itch. "Telling yourself that make you feel better? Help you sleep at night?" He scoffs. "You can fucking save it."

Blessedly, mercifully, the next turn takes them right into Wayne Tower's parking deck and Dick tells himself he's being the bigger person when he just exits the car without another word.

And if he slams the door, well.

Absolutely the bigger person.

He doesn't say a word as he reaches the elevator, Jason on his heels, and doesn't bother to say anything as the elevator takes them to the top floor either.

Jason doesn't try to speak either.

He can't really say whether he's disappointed or not.

-

By the time Dick makes it back to his room, the sun's just beginning to peek over the horizon and he's more than ready to fall face first into bed and sleep the day away.

With a sigh, he shrugs out of his jacket, draping it over the back of the desk chair, and with one rough motion, finishes pulling off his tie. Rubbing a hand on the back of his neck, he tosses the tie on top of the desk.

Where something catches his eye.

Slowly, Dick steps closer, stopping at the edge of the desk. When he brushes the tie aside, he finds a long box, sitting right in the center of his desk. A long, giftwrapped box, tied off with a neat little bow.

He blinks. Yeah, that definitely wasn't there before they left for the party.

He glances at his closed door, frowning. It's not exactly like he'd put it past any of the others to sneak in, but.

Well. There's only one person besides Dick who's even been in the penthouse at all the last couple weeks.

Just his luck it's exactly who he doesn't want to see right now.

He's not sure how long he spends in a staring match with the box--the gift, the _gift_ \--but sooner than he's probably ready for, he's picking up the box, weighting it in his hands. It's not heavy, he finds when he shakes it lightly, and it's got no card, just a simple tag reading _From J_. But even that much seems...

The anger slowly begins to drain out of him.

Maybe those are thoughts best not entertained.

He winds up unwrapping it carefully, setting the wrapping aside to reveal a generic white box. Then he pulls off the lid, finding a scarf carefully nestled inside.

In blue and black. With elephant print.

_Oh._

Dick finds himself smiling despite himself, just slightly. "How did you even know to get this..." He mutters to himself, setting the scarf down on the desk.

He can't decide if it was an incredibly thoughtless last minute gift or an incredibly thoughtful one. But whatever Jason was thinking...

(He's leaning toward the latter.)

Crap.

Now he actually has to talk to him tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what's a little unresolved batman issues between former robins, eh? eh? and did babs and tim hear everything? _you bet._
> 
> Thank you for reading! ♥


	3. Chapter 3

Christmas day finds Dick hovering outside Jason's bedroom door, a small box of his own held tightly in his hands.

Before last night, he'd just been kind of hoping to casually hand him the gift like it was no big deal, maybe draw him into a conversation about their next move, then go on about his day. Because it's not. A big deal, that is.

It absolutely isn't. Absolutely. Shouldn't be.

He's just having a little trouble convincing himself of that, especially after last night. Because things just can never be complicated enough with Jason, can they?

He breathes in deep, holds himself straighter, and raps his knuckles against Jason's door.

Only to get no response.

He frowns, narrowing his eyes at the door. It's early enough, earlier than he's ever woken in the past few weeks, that he'd been reasonably certain Jason would still be in his room. He usually wakes up after Jason's already started his day, after all.

Did he guess at the wrong time? Or is Jason avoiding him?

He raises his hand, just about to knock again.

"Looking for me, Wonder Boy?"

Dick whirls around, finding Jason in sleep pants and a threadbare shirt, holding a mug in one hand.

"Jason," he blurts out, holding the gift to his chest, as if it hadn't been _him_ he'd been looking for. But in his freaking defense, he's never seen Jason anything like _this_ the weeks they've been living together in the penthouse. "Morning. I..." Dick stops, taking a deep breath. All right, no need to act like an idiot. He has a goal here. "I wanted to talk to you," he says firmly. "And give you this." He holds out the box, schooling his features into as neutral an expression as he can manage at the moment.

Jason raises an eyebrow. "Aw, that a gift for me? You shouldn't have," he drawls, as if their argument last night had never happened. Or maybe exactly as if it had happened, he can never really tell with Jason. "You had that all along?" He eyes the gift in Dick's hands, but doesn't move to take it from him.

"Of course I did. Why wouldn't I?" Dick answers and it is absolutely not a struggle to keep his eyes focused on Jason's face rather than anywhere else. Absolutely. It does help keep the affronted tone out of his voice though.

Jason shrugs. "Doesn't matter," he says, still in that light tone. His lips spread in a smirk. "But, hey, a gift from the great Richard Grayson. What'd ya get me then?"

Dick holds out the gift again, pressing his lips together in a thin line. Somehow, he doesn't really trust himself to speak right now.

He swallows, finding himself staring at Jason, who stares right back, something in his expression at odds with his voice before. Then, like flipping a switch, Jason's smirk--all sharp edges--eases into a small, barely there smile and he carefully takes the box with his free hand. "Thanks," he says softly.

With his hands suddenly free, Dick's at a loss for one short moment, before he jams them both in his hoodie's pockets. He's almost sure Jason will enjoy the book he picked out (with Alfred's help, he's not about to admit just yet), but.

He's probably focusing more on it than he should. "So," he says slowly. "After I got back last night. I just wanted to thank you for the--"

Jason groans, holding up the hand with the mug. "Don't. Seriously, that's all the time we've got for today." He gestures at Dick with his own gift and pushes past him to enter his own room. "Merry Christmas, Dickie," he calls out over his shoulder, then the door closes behind him, the conversation effectively over.

Slowly, one by one, Dick manages to unclench his fingers from the palms of his hands inside his pockets.

That went all right, didn't it?

-

It's not until the next day--after Dick gives up on getting Jason to talk to him again (on getting himself to talk to him) after that and goes out to spend the rest of Christmas day with Tim and Alfred--that Dick manages to make himself sit Jason down in the living room to talk about their plan.

Or he corners him when he's already there with the TV on, notes spread across the coffee table. Same difference, right?

Except Jason turns off the TV the moment Dick captures his attention and, all right. All right, Jason's undivided attention on him. He can deal with that.

He can deal with that.

Especially because it turns out Jason's gotten himself a _super-secret_ text message about the _super-secret_ afterparty they're invited to, which is a really nice distraction from Jason's undivided attention on him.

Jason rolls his eyes. "It's not super-secret, Dick," he's saying. "It's just an invitation to stay the night at Pearson's place." He holds up his Todd Peters phone, where the message is still open. "Looks like that little afterparty's at noon. Wouldn't do to have his guests have to leave and come back."

That's... More than a little interesting. "Huh. That's surprising."

Jason shrugs. "So it looks it's gonna be real cozy this time. He couldn't possibly be plotting anything, could he?"

"Oh no," Dick says, crossing his legs under him on his armchair. "Not at all."

Jason taps a finger against one of his papers, covered in his handwriting. "You know what kind of opportunity this is for us, right?"

"We get to ask all the shady people about their deepest, darkest secrets over hot chocolate during our sleepover with them?"

Jason rolls his eyes, but it can't quite mask the smile that tugs at his lips. "Yeah, Dick. Exactly like that," he says dryly.

Because Dick just can't help himself, he goes on. "Once the games start, maybe we can ask them whether they're accomplices if they pick Truth. Then get back home in time for dinner?"

"Riiight after you let Mitchell braid your hair, Dickie. Maybe he'll even tell us it's him."

Dick smiles, taking the opportunity that presents. "Probably not, he's not important enough. We did talk to plenty of other people who probably are, but..."

"None of them really did anything even slightly suspicious?" Jason finishes for him.

"Yeah. They're playing their cards close to the vest and that? Really doesn't help us at all." He grimaces. "Really doesn't help that _someone_ was expecting us."

Jason's smile turns fixed, no longer reaching his eyes. "Yeah," he says, voice gone flat. "But they won't expect us this time."

It takes Dick a moment to realize what his mistake was. And to remember that they're apparently not talking about it.

He swallows. "No. They won't," he says, plastering on a smile in return. "We'll be ready and..."

Dick trails off. This is going nowhere. There's got to be something else he can focus on.

He snaps his fingers. "We have some time we could use for investigating. That little sleepover might actually be a lucky break for us."

Jason perks up, eyes widening slightly. (And Dick tries very, very hard to ignore why that makes a knot loosen somewhere in his chest.)

Before Jason can say anything though, Dick's tablet, left forgotten on the coffee table, lights up and unlocks, opening to a voice call.

"Uh," Dick says eloquently.

"Good afternoon, boys," Babs' voice comes through the tablet's tinny speakers loud and clear. And, really. _Really_. He doesn't know why he's even surprised.

"Nice party trick," Jason comments.

"Oh, it's just Skype," she answers, and Dick can just hear the shrug in her voice. "It was more convenient than waiting for the two of you to get your phones."

Dick slips his hands in his pocket, where he did, indeed, neglect to put his phone. "How did you..." He shoots a look at Jason, who just shakes his head. And it hits him.

Dick groans. "Don't tell me you've got cameras on us even here."

"That's for me to know and you not to worry about. Anyway," she goes on briskly. "Tim's with me. We've found more on Eva Hyland."

"Yeah? Hit us."

"So it looks like," Tim chimes in. "The real reason B fired her is because she was selling Wayne Enterprises security secrets to the highest bidders." His voice turns wry. "He found out the hard way when he had a few break-ins. So she got fired, Wayne Enterprises got a new security system and security team and..."

"Bruce never mentioned her again," Dick finishes for him.

"Pretty much. And this was long enough ago that you were what... Eight? Nine?"

"More or less," Dick murmurs, thinking back to what they _had_ managed to find in the early hours of Christmas. "I probably wasn't even Robin yet." He rests his hands on his ankles, frowning. "Bruce would have probably still been dealing with the Falcones and everything, then. Probably didn't even think about her again after firing her."

"And here she is fucking with us now, when he's not around," Jason mutters, just loud enough for Dick to hear.

"So it _is_ possible she suspects us of something?" he asks Babs carefully, taking extra care not to look at Jason as he does so.

"It could just be some healthy suspicion on her part, but definitely possible. If she thinks _Richie_ doesn't know or remember anything about her time at Wayne Enterprises, she might lower her guard. But that's a big might."

"Cause she could figure Richie went to Daddy and found out why she remembered him and he didn't remember her."

"Also possible." Tim sighs. "Just keep an eye out for her, you guys. _And_ we'll keep a closer eye on you so it all goes right."

Dick can't help but smile at the teasing tone Tim's voice takes on then. He can't find it in him to even be annoyed at the not so subtle jab at him and Jason there, even if he does catch Jason rolling his eyes at the edge of his vision.

"Just don't forget Pearson's the priority when you're keeping an eye on her. We're just covering our bases here." There's a long pause, before Babs goes on, "The only other connection I can find to either of your civilian identities is Pearson's assistant _Miss Withers_. And it's a tenuous one. She studied business in Hudson University and she's around your age, Dick. Ever meet her?"

He rolls his eyes, ignoring Jason's raised eyebrow. "I was only there for one semester, Babs. I didn't recognize her from anything."

"Thought you'd say that... Watch out for her anyway, but she's _probably_ not out for your blood, specifically. At least not Richie Grayson's."

"Probably," Dick agrees, voice flat. "So what's the connection to Batman and the Red Hood, then?" He did notice that emphasis on civilian identities, thank you.

"I thought you'd never ask. Remember Donna Omicidio?"

Dick blinks. Then grimaces. "A mob boss. The Titans dealt with her a couple times. She'd hidden bodies inside the wall of the apartment I moved to in New York."

Jason coughs. "How do you end up in these situations," he mutters.

Dick ignores him, of course.

"Bingo."

"She's still in jail, isn't she? What's the connection to--" _Oh_. He screws his eyes shut and sighs. "Her ex's name was Withers. Don't tell me."

"Oh, don't worry, Grayson. I won't tell you she's her daughter or granddaughter or anything."

He opens his eyes again and glares down at the tablet. "Uh huh." 

"She's her _great-niece_ , who supposedly has absolutely no connection to her villain great-aunt."

Jason smirks. "But you don't really believe that. do you?"

"Not for a second. Omicidio's connections have all been drying up the last few years, but a name like hers could probably still go far for our mystery accomplice."

"If the accomplice isn't related to her," Dick says reluctantly. "What do her parents do? Aunts and uncles?"

"Let's just say that Omicidio's connections may be drying up, but her money sure isn't."

"You think maybe we should have been focusing on the head honcho's assistant this whole time, Dickie?"

Dick makes a face. Another generation of someone he dealt with when he was a teenager was so not what he was expecting when he woke up today. "It's possible. We'll have to keep an eye on her."

"Good," Babs says. "In that case, I'm sending everything to your tablet now, anyone else you need a broader check on? Or are all your suspects accounted for?"

"I don’t think so." Dick shakes his head. "We've more or less everything we need."

"Mitchell," Jason says suddenly, moving to sit up straighter. "Check if he's ever worked for any guys like Pearson before. He could've just been following orders, but..."

"...But it sure was convenient," Dick breathes, remembering their conversation before things had gone sideways on the way back to Wayne Tower.

"Exactly."

"You can't seriously think he's the accomplice," Tim says carefully, the steady sound of fingers on a keyboard stopping for a moment.

"Nah," Jason says dismissively and aims a _look_ at Dick. "I just wanna figure out if he's involved the same way Hyland is."

"Then you're going to have to share your notes on him with us, Second Boy Wonder," Babs says. "Send them to us and we'll have all the info you want by tomorrow."

"That's a little slow for you, isn't it, Babs?" Dick teases.

" _Tomorrow_."

Jason rolls his eyes again. "Right, right, hold on. I've got 'em on my laptop, I'll email them to you."

"Go on, then," she says, as Jason gathers his papers and rises from the couch, off to his room. "Hey, Tim," she goes on, casual as you please. "You think you can get my other laptop from my car?"

"What?"

"It's right in the passenger seat, you can't miss it."

Tim must give her some kind of silent answer, because next thing Dick knows, Tim's fallen silent on his end and he's left alone in the living room.

With the distinct feeling they've all just been _maneuvered_.

Shit.

Babs waits until Jason's footsteps fade into silence, before, "Dick," she says, in that _tone_ that means he's not going to like what she has to say. 

For just a second, he debates hanging up. The bare outlines of just _what_ Barbara is up to are beginning to connect in his mind and it's not as if they need her on the line for Jason to send her that email. But quickly--and reluctantly--he tosses the idea aside. As if just hanging up could stop Oracle herself. "Babs," he says slowly, more than a hint of wariness to his voice.

"What was that about last night?" she asks and. Ouch.

He thinks he could have done with a little beating around the bush this time.

"Nothing, Babs." He sighs. "Jason and I just had some things to work out, that's all."

"Does that mean you worked them out now?"

"We talked," he hedges, wincing at how defensive it comes out. Great. Just great. "There was... talking."

"Uh huh," she says, voice skeptical. "That doesn't really answer my question. I _know_ you."

"It was just a... _situation_ , Babs, it'll be fine. Sometimes people working together have disagreements and--"

Babs sighs, interrupting him. When she speaks now, her voice comes out firmer, somewhat more _business_ than _Barbara Gordon_. "Listen, Dick, you two can have as many _disagreements_ as you want whenever you want. Lord knows you two are good at that. But are we going to have any situations like that on New Year's? There's a job to do and we can't afford to let it go by the wayside because you two are weird about each other."

"It'll be fine," he says brightly, though he's beginning to feel anything but. Babs won't buy it for a second anyway. "The job'll be fine. We'll figure it out, close the case, and have Pearson and his accomplice behind bars no problem."

"I'm holding you to that, Dick. Go kiss and make up or whatever you need to do. You can argue again after you've got them all in custody."

"Babs. There's not gonna be anymore incidents."

"Right, sure there won't. Well, talk to you later, Dick," she signs off, cheerful as can be.

" _Babs_!"

He knew he should have hung up on her.

-

All too soon, it's New Year's Eve and they've got just about all the information they can get.

Most of the guests are shady, but a good deal no more shadier than your average rich asshole. Hyland's more of an unknown entity than he's comfortable with and Mitchell turns up almost clean, with just a suspiciously longer than Jason was aware of period of employment with Pearson. Nothing really concrete.

Then there's Withers, who just might be their lucky break after all. But no way of knowing for sure just yet.

So he's more than a little relieved afterwards, to say the least, when Pearson immediately gravitates to Richie and Todd when they enter his place.

It's all meaningless conversation for a while, easy enough to keep up with while keeping half an eye on the people around them. Beside him, he can tell Jason's doing the same, subtly nudging him whenever someone new enters the mansion.

Then, "I know you've probably got a lot you want to ask," Pearson says in an undertone, trailing off from some story he'd been telling them and leaning in close enough that even Dick can smell the wine on his breath. "Probably some things I should apologize for, I can't imagine either of you is very happy with me. But just stick around for lunch and we'll work everything out. All right? Scout's honor."

"All right," Jason agrees easily, while Dick makes sure to smile politely.

When Pearson looks away, he glances up at Jason and raises an eyebrow. He only gets a minute headshake in answer and arm sliding around his waist.

All right. Wait and see then.

 _Wait and see_ ends up meaning more mingling, more small talk, the crowd growing louder and louder (drunker and drunker, while Dick makes sure not to have more than a sip here and there, which really isn't helping him deal with all these people). Then someone has the music hushed, the drinks flow more freely, and oh, he can see what they're gearing up for.

"Almost time!" he hears someone yell. As if he needed more confirmation.

"Countdown already?" Dick mutters, only to be jostled by the couple pushing past them.

Jason reaches out to steady him, hands warm on his waist. "And they're real excited about it," he says wryly.

Then someone ( _Stacy Reed_ , he's sure, having had a few drinks too many) barrels past them, knocking Dick right back into Jason.

"Fancy seeing you here, stranger," Dick blurts out when he finds himself practically flush against Jason.

Jason laughs. "You that excited, Richie? Or just looking for an excuse to be all over me?"

Right. Right, he needs to be Richie. "Of course I am," he says in a softer voice, all smitten sucker. "Whoever you're with when the new year comes in is who you'll be with the rest of the year, right?" He tosses his head and, pointedly, says, "You're the only one I want to be with the rest of the year. And it's the same for you, right, honey?"

"Oh, of course." Jason gives him a lopsided grin, raising a hand to Dick's cheek. "Who else would I want to be with?" He glances at the crowd around them. "These stiffs? Nah, it's gotta be you, Richie."

And it's dramatic. It's so cheesy. But Jason's voice comes out so soft, so gentle, that for a moment he can't believe it's _Jason Todd_ standing here with him, as much as he can't forget, can't get the thought out of his head, that it's Jason Todd standing here with him.

He knows it's part of the act, for any prying eyes and ears near them, of which he's sure there are plenty. It doesn't mean anything. But his hands still clench at his sides and, to his mortification, he finds himself leaning into the touch and he can't decide whether he wants to outright scream or hide.

"Yeah, well," Dick says instead, averting his gaze. "Not like I'd pick anyone else either, babe." It doesn't quite come out as lightly as he intended.

Jason lets out a low laugh, but doesn't lower his hand from his face. "Aww, you really know how to make a guy feel appreciated, don't you, Dickiebird?"

Dick starts, chancing a quick glance around them, only looking back when no one seems to be paying them any more attention than usual.

That nickname wasn't part of the act before now.

But he soldiers on, as natural as he can. He'll trust Jason's judgment here, he has no other choice. "Yeah?"

He barely hears the countdown to midnight start, doesn't even consciously register it until they're five seconds away from the New Year.

"Yeah."

_Four._

Dick's heart is hammering in his chest and, _god_ , he hopes Babs and Tim aren't watching. He's sure he's about to do something _immensely_ embarrassing.

_Three._

But it's for the act, of course.

_Two._

What kind of fake couple would they be if they couldn't even do this?

_One._

When it happens, it's little more than a brush of their lips, soft pressure, there one moment and gone the next. But Dick still finds himself clinging to Jason's lapels, reluctant to pull away, as he realizes that he is, in fact, _kissing Jason Todd_.

Then, at Dick's grip on his shirt, Jason's leaning in again, firmer this time, but just as breathtakingly gentle, and.

It's part of the act. _It's all part of the act,_ he tells himself, almost desperately. The kind of kiss smitten newlyweds might have on their first New Year together and Jason knows it, he knows Jason knows it.

But the more he tries to tell himself that, the more it slips through his fingers like sand, faster the tighter he tries to hold on.

Shit.

Shit, this is what he wasn't supposed to think about.

When Jason draws back, Dick holds himself still, slowly pulling his hands away from Jason.

This was a bad idea.

This whole case was a bad idea. What the hell was he thinking?

But he plasters on a bright smile, manages a flirty wink, and rests a hand back on Jason's lapel. "Happy new year, baby!" he says, just loud enough for any eavesdroppers to hear.

He can't tell just what Jason's face tries to do for a moment there, besides look vaguely pained, but soon enough he's smiling, offering his arm to Dick and what can he do but take it?

And they're standing close enough Dick could just ask him. He could just ask what was up with the nickname there, ask just what he was thinking.

But then Pearson's calling for attention, diving into whatever speech he prepared for the night, and Dick doesn't hear a single word of it.

He can't bring himself to look at Jason during all of it, can only keep his eyes carefully averted from the man beside him. But he can't quite focus on the crowd either. He manages to spot Hyland, by one of the doors, and his eyes slide away. The same happens whenever he spots someone else he recognizes, even with Pearson himself, still going on and on.

He can barely keep the politely interested smile on his face, barely able to hold himself still when he wants to shake Jason just as much as he wants to bolt from him and hide out in his apartment for a week or maybe two.

Either's good. It doesn't really feel like the right time to be picky here.

The whole time, Jason stands still beside him, nothing out of the ordinary, as far as Dick can tell. (Which isn't saying much, he realizes, when he can't even bring himself to look at the man anywhere but from the corner of his eye.) And it's ridiculous. It's completely ridiculous. How can Jason stand there so calmly after... after...

He's not supposed to think about it.

Blessedly, mercifully, Pearson winds down just when Dick's clenching his hands tightly enough he's sure Jason must be really feeling it, seconds away from something, _anything_ , he's sure he'll regret.

After that, he and Jason don't really get the chance to talk while they're shown to their guest room for the night, and he's not sure whether he's grateful for that or not.

As much as he wants to finally get to work, being alone with Jason right now sounds like a recipe for disaster.

Jesus. He knew that, if they wanted to put on a convincing act, something like this was a possibility from the start. But he'd been doing a good job of just not thinking about it, but now that it's actually happened...

If he closes his eyes, he can practically still feel that damned kiss and that's. _That more than a little inconvenient right now._

Especially when Jason's given no sign it yet that it even affected him, leaving Dick the only idiot here who's beginning to have trouble telling apart an act from reality.

He needs a long vacation after this, exactly what he won't get.

-

They don't even manage to reach the inside of their room. Just as Dick's hand reaches the doorknob, Chase Pearson himself is striding down the hall, calling for Todd Peters.

Great. Just what they need.

But he lets his hand slide away from the door and puts on a bright smile, turning to face the lavishly decorated hallway again. Before he can even blink, Pearson's already there, shaking Jason's hand.

"It's good to see you again, Todd," he says, as if they hadn't just spoken recently. Then he glances at Dick and his lips turn down in a frown. "I'm sorry to do this, Richard, but I'll have to borrow your husband for a little while. Just boring work stuff, you know. I promise I'll bring him back safe and sound before the action starts again. That is, ah, all right with you, isn't it, Todd?"

"Oh yeah," Jason says beside him. "Just fine. Richie knows work's important, right?" He aims Dick a significant look.

Dick sighs inwardly. He probably should've expected something like this. Hell, he _did_. Richie isn't supposed to know much of anything about Todd's work. Problem is he just had to go and get his head all twisted around enough for this to actually startle him.

"Yeah, of course," is all he says though, lifting a shoulder in a shrug. He bats his eyelashes. "Just don't take too long, hmm?"

"Aw, Richie." He leans in close to Dick, grinning, presses his lips to his cheek, then pulls away. "I'll be back before you know it, babe. Just gotta deal with the boring work stuff."

Dick hums in answer, aiming a small smile at Jason that he's almost sure is just the slightest bit less convincing than his usual ones.

But it gets Jason and Pearson stepping away, striding right back down the hall.

And Dick thinks he might actually remember how to breathe by the time they're out of his sight.

He slips inside the room, gives it a cursory glance--a nice enough room, large bed right in the center, an en suite, and just as lavishly, and tackily, decorated as the rest of the mansion--and presses his back against the door. "All clear?" he whispers, as motionless as he can.

"No, sorry," Babs' voice rings in his ear without skipping a beat. "Video and audio surveillance in all the guest rooms and halls. We'll see if that extends to wherever Jason's gone off to," she grumbles, almost an afterthought. "And they most definitely searched you and Jason's bag."

Dick nods, as subtly as he can. Yeah, they'd expected that from the start. It left them with less to work with than was strictly preferable, but at least they managed to stash their suits with them.

In case of emergency, of course.

"Just try not to look suspicious while you wait for Jason," Tim chimes in. "Dust off your best bored rich boy waiting for his man to come home act. And don't seduce the staff just because you're _so_ lonely."

 _Tim_.

Dick rearranges his face into a put-upon look and silently vows some kind of harmless revenge on Tim as he meanders over to sit on the edge of the bed and shrug off his suit jacket, all with Babs' barely muffled laughter as his background noise. How did he get saddled with the two of them, honestly?

There really is no way for him to know if the cameras in this room are being watched right now, but he's not willing to take any chances while Jason's off who knows where with the big boss.

So he yawns and flops back onto the pillows, feet dangling off the edge of the bed, then pulls out his Richie Grayson phone. Maybe some time to clear his head, _away from Jason_ , is exactly what he needs.

Though, really. This case has had him doing far too much waiting for his taste. He'll be happy when they can finally bust the whole thing.

Sometime after Babs and Tim fall into a quiet conversation about Bruce and Damian's case with the League--their comms kept on for his benefit, he's sure--he scrolls through his twitter feed, then his instagram, and he's just beginning to run out of social media when he looks down at the time again.

He bites his lip.

On their way to the house, he and Jason agreed on no more than forty-five minutes apart, no matter what.

It's been fifty minutes.

He turns his head just so, hopes it'll be enough to at least partially conceal what he says from the camera, and murmurs, "Eyes?"

"None on Jason anymore," Tim answers reluctantly. "He went off-camera somewhere past the ballroom."

He nods.

Not good.

Slowly, he rises to his feet, making a show of stretching, and slips the phone back in his pocket. 

He starts a slow circuit around the room, inspecting the landscape on the wall, the god-ugly statuettes on the dresser, and so on and so on, until he's right by the door.

Fifty-eight minutes since he last saw Jason, he reminds himself. And, making it look as casual as he can, he opens the door, peeks out, and slips right back out.

Showtime.

The hall's quieter than he expected it to be with so many guests still around. But, hell. For all he knows, he's the only idiot stuck in a guest room and everyone's off in whatever secret meeting Jason's been taken to. Maybe there's even no point to him acting like he's just wandering around, if they've already shunted him off for a reason.

But it doesn't hurt to be careful. And it does mean he should move faster. If it's true.

Babs must have some of the same suspicions, because before he's even halfway through the hall, she's whispering, "We tapped into the feeds for the other guest rooms in your hall. They're all empty."

Well, something smells rotten. He damn well knows he wasn't the only supposedly unsuspecting "spouse" in this hall. If this is some business meeting, there should be others in these rooms.

Out the hall with the guest rooms, past a sitting room, and out another hall, and still neither hide nor hair of _anyone_. He rests a hand against the wall at the end of the hallway and leans forward to peer into the next completely unnecessary sitting room.

And freezes when he hears a voice from inside it.

"Who's there?" The voice is flat this time, unamused. But he damn well recognizes it.

He takes a split second to consider turning right back around and into his and Jason's guest room. He can get away before she can spot him.

But time sure isn't about to turn backwards and he's still seen no sign of Jason.

So Dick lets his shoulders relax and lets his expression turn sheepish, before stepping into the sitting room.

"Miss Hyland," he says, rubbing the back of his neck. Casual and caught unawares, rather than perfectly polite this time. If she can change her act, he can, too. "Fancy seeing you again."

She raises an eyebrow at him, flat expression not budging an inch. Not going for the bad sweet act this time, all right. That always ends up happening to him with people who know Brucie. "Is something the matter, Grayson? Something wrong with your room?"

He shrugs, aiming a grin at her. "No, of course not. It was just getting kind of lonely there without my husband," he says, and he's beginning to hate himself a little more every time he has to say that. "I thought I'd see if anyone else was still up while I waited for him."

She frowns, still just as frozen where she stands. "It's best if no one else is out and about right now, Grayson. Mister Pearson takes his guests' security very seriously, and that's difficult to ensure if we don't know where you all are."

"Well, you know where I am now, right?" he says brightly. "But I still don't know where my husband is. I'm sure you understand why I'm concerned."

Uh oh. The way her face twists tells him he's put his foot in it.

Definitely coming on too strong for someone who's already suspicious of him.

"Grayson." She smiles. And she's definitely saying his name way too often by now. "Peters is _perfectly safe_ with Mister Pearson. You don't really think we'd let anything happen to him, do you? There were just some sensitive matters to discuss, which I'm afraid can't include you."

If that was supposed to ease his worries, it just managed to do the absolute opposite.

"Of course not, of course not," he says quickly, shifting on his feet. "I just mean..."

"You should go back to your room," she says, eyeing him carefully. "Peters will be back soon."

He absolutely cannot do that. Not with the clock still ticking. But...

Deliberately, he raises a hand to his cheek, tapping his fingers in a specific pattern.

"Aw, come on," he lets his voice come out petulant this time, every inch the spoiled rich boy just denied something and ready to whine and cajole till he gets his way. "I'm sure it won't be a problem if I stay here a little longer. Maybe you could tell me about when you worked for Bruce? He never mentioned anything, and I was too young to even remember what he was like then. Or, hey, was Sarah already working for him when you worked there? Bruce's secretary? Because I'm sure if you talked to her, she could tell you how well-behaved I always was when she let me stick around and--"

"Enough." Finally, finally, she steps forward, no longer quite resembling a statue as she advances on him. "It's a real shame Brucie never spoke to you of me. But this isn't quite the time for catching up. So how about you just--"

Over an hour by now.

He doesn't have time for this.

She reaches for his arm. He lets her grab it. "Miss," he says brightly. "You really don't have to--"

" _Grayson_."

"I promise I won't even bother anyone, honest." He pulls his arm away. And if Babs got his message...

The lights go out.

It won't do him any favors with Hyland's suspicions, but he doesn't have many choices right now.

He has no doubt the lack of light won't stop Hyland for more than a few seconds, so he takes the opportunity to hightail it out of the sitting room and down yet another, shorter hall. He's reached the doors to the ballroom by the time the lights turn back on.

"Thanks, O," he whispers.

"You better have gotten good use out of it," she says, short. "I don't think I'll be able to do that again here. Now, hurry, I think I can get into her comms, I'll make sure she gets turned around."

He smiles, carefully pushing open the doors. "You're the best, O, got me just where I wanted. You said past the ballroom?"

"Right," Tim says. "The cameras don't extend to the hallway at the back. Go there." 

"Understood."

The lights might be back on, but the ballroom itself has been left dark, and neatly cleaned after that party.

No time to dawdle though. It probably isn't as nice as Wayne Manor's ballroom without all the party decorations anyway.

As carefully as he can afford, he makes his way through the room, refusing to let himself even think about how easy it would be for someone to be lurking in here. It doesn't matter anyway. He could deal with them.

Dick reaches the door to the hall Tim pointed out without incident and, after pushing it open, finds a short hall, no security, and another door at the end.

He rolls his eyes. If he weren't worried about Jason (and isn't that a thought he'd rather not examine), he'd be laughing at this whole damn set-up.

"Odds the door's a staircase?"

"High," Tim answers. "Be careful, creatively bankrupt villains are still dangerous."

"Always."

He gets only a chuckle in response.

A moment later and he's quietly pushing open the next door. And, surprise surprise, it _is_ a staircase.

Great. Pearson can't even be original, after all. At least it might actually make his life easier.

"Anything at all on the basement?" he asks, looking over his shoulder--no sounds from the ballroom--and back down the dark staircase.

"It's probably got some torture chamber? Everyone the Titans ever fought is waiting for you there?"

"Thank you, peanut gallery," he mutters. "Anything, O?"

"Pearson made up for his lack of originality by actually having decent security down there, and Red Robin and I are still blind here. Give me a few minutes. Take this time to change or whatever you need to do."

"Couldn't have come up with a better idea myself."

What better way to lose the head of security than by just making Richie Grayson temporarily disappear, after all? Batman's on the case and he can make sure to have Richie found lost somewhere else in the mansion later.

"Nothing yet?" he asks when he's finished suiting up.

"Little longer."

He nods. Well. No time to wait those few minutes, so looks like he's starting this blind. "Let me know!" he says cheerfully and starts down the stairs, Barbara's sigh following him down.

-

The staircase ends up being far, far longer than he expected, long enough to give the stairs down to the Batcave a run for their money. And, Jesus, he never thought he'd be thinking _that_.

It's still stone basement walls that greet him when he gets far enough though, along with the sound of voices.

Jackpot.

"Come on, it ain't like you don't already _know_ why we got married. Richie doesn't even get involved in any of Wayne's business, hell, the guy barely even pays attention to him! Except when he's mad. And what the hell would Wayne want with your business anyway?"

 _Jason's voice_.

Dick's breath gets caught in his throat. It's Jason's voice all right, but it's sounding just the slightest bit strained.

"Todd," Pearson's voice drifts up the stairs, cajoling. "It's fine if you didn't know, Richie certainly comes across as enough of an idiot."

"Hey!"

" _But_. You'll excuse me if I believe Eva's word over his, won't you? And she doesn't trust her former employer's son in my home." He laughs. "She thinks Wayne's a little _too_ interested in, ah, people in our line of work. He's good friends with the police commissioner, too, did you know that? And Richie's still friends with his daughter. Really, I don't think you chose your husband very well."

" _Hey_!" Jason scoffs. "He's never said anything to me."

"Of course he hasn't. Where would your marriage end up if it turned out he only wanted you to get at your business associates?"

"Boss..." A different voice chimes in. Mitchell. "Come on, Mister Pearson, you've talked to Richie. He couldn't be more of an airhead if he tried--sorry, Todd. If Wayne's a big enough idiot to try to spy on us, I don't think he'd send _him_. It'd blow the whole thing for him!"

Ouch.

Harsh. But definitely helpful for his cover.

"Mitchell--"

" _Geoff_. What the hell, I thought we were friends!" And to Jason's credit, he sure does a good job of sounding hurt. "Now you're doing this?"

"L-look Todd. I just didn't want any trouble, all right? I'm just doing what I gotta. If you and Richie have really got nothing to do with this--"

"Then we'll cross that bridge when we get to it," Pearson cuts in.

"Thanks." Dick can practically hear Jason rolling his eyes.

And, one more step down later, Dick can actually _see_ him rolling his eyes.

He leans over the banister, biting his lip. All right. He can handle this.

It's a pretty plain basement for such a lavish mansion, all considered, but Dick doesn't exactly have the time to sit there and critique the room. Instead, he takes the time to glance over the people gathered there, mentally counting them.

Pearson's in the center, doing a poor job of looming over a poorly tied-up Jason, his assistant--looking perfectly composed--and Mitchell--looking like he'd rather be anywhere but here, if you ask Dick--behind him.

Along with the rest of the missing guests, looking more or less the same as Mitchell. Lovely. But he doubts he'll even have to fight most of them.

Jason picks just then to look up and Dick can pinpoint the exact moment Jason notices him. His features smooth out almost imperceptibly, and he turns his attention back on Pearson. "What's it matter to you anyway?" he asks loudly. " _If_ Wayne was on to you, what would it even matter? Richie doesn't know shit and he's not gonna know shit. Hell, _I_ don't know shit, I thought I was finally gonna find out shit tonight!"

"You were." And it's the good old nondescript assistant who speaks up this time. "But Miss Hyland brought up concerns. And Mister Pearson and my mother thought it best to be cautious."

"Your mother," Jason drawls, just as Dick freezes halfway to vaulting over the banister.

That might just be the confirmation they needed.

"So you were gonna let me in, but I went and got married to the wrong person." Jason sighs, long and loud. "That the problem? And let me guess, now that you've told me, you've gotta kill me."

"Oh, please." Pearson shakes his head. "There are easier ways to keep you and the Waynes from causing trouble. We do still have Grayson exactly where we want him to be while you're stuck here."

Dick rolls his eyes. That's probably his cue to get on with it before Hyland goes and radios them that she's lost track of him or something. With any luck, whatever Babs did to her comms is still working though.

He vaults over the banister, landing right behind Pearson and his entourage. And silently cursing the damn cape again.

Jason's lips twitch, the bastard.

"Since when is Mrs Withers in charge?" he asks as he rises to his feet. And if he knows damn well how scary it can look to just have the Batman materialize out of nowhere behind people?

He can't really be blamed for taking advantage of it, can he?

Dick holds still a moment, letting the usual cries of "It's the Bat!" and "Where did Batman come from?!" get themselves over and done with. One particularly enterprising man comes after him, fists swinging, but it's barely any effort to block his blows and knock him down out cold.

That done with, he strides forward and grabs the nearest unlucky sucker who doesn't scatter quickly enough. Mitchell, as it turns out.

"So. Who is she?"

"B-Batman! It's her and the boss, you know," he babbles. Oh, he really does get why Jason likes this guy so much. "Both of 'em! Partners and all, they're, uh, both--"

" _Mitchell_ ," Pearson hisses and Dick could just laugh.

A guy as careful as Chase Pearson and his lackey's spilling his guts here.

Real bad choice in lackeys there.

Pearson's face twists into a grimace. "Batman," he says carefully. "This is merely a meeting of a... sensitive nature. Surely, you understand that. I thought you had when you didn't go after any more of my men for a month."

"Nope." Dick lets go of Mitchell's shirt and watches him scramble away. "I haven't heard much of anything about a Mrs Withers here. Are you going to tell me, or do I make you tell me the hard way?"

Slowly, Pearson lifts his hands in surrender. Just as he hears the sound of a gun cocking.

"What are you doing?!" Pearson gasps out.

Well, that took longer than he expected. "You're going to shoot me," he tells Withers, watching as her expression turns uncertain.

She glances between him and Pearson, then back to him. "Body armor, right?" she asks softly. There's silence for a moment, before she whirls around, turning the gun on _Jason_. "Does he?"

He can't breathe for a second. _Jesus_. He suddenly can't remember whether Jason's got anything under that suit, _he should remember_. It's not like this kind of thing never happens, _fuck_.

Jason grins at her, all teeth. "Why don't you find out?"

That seems to knock her off balance, like she can't decide whether he's bluffing or not. "Well, it'll still hurt if you do, won't it? Good enough for me."

"Wait!" Dick yells, but she turns to him when he moves, gun still trained on Jason. "What do you think's going to happen if you shoot him? I'll still take you down."

"You don't let people die. And Miss Hyland will..."

"She's not coming." He hopes. "Trust me. It's over, so how about you don't take it out on this guy and you just..."

She only glares at him all the more intensely, but that's just the opening he needs. Dick surges forward and, just as she pulls the trigger, he grabs her arm and the shot goes wide, ending up in the back wall.

He really hopes there aren't any more rooms back there, he thinks as he wrests the gun away from her and lets her fall over harmlessly.

And maybe he shoved Pearson out of the way while he was at it, too. No big deal.

"Anyone else?" he grunts.

Turns out, after that, no one really wants to fight the Batman.

Dick's almost disappointed.

In the end, Todd Peters ("I let them tie me up! I swear!") manages to disappear from the basement just before anyone official wanders back down there to find the rest of Pearson and his afterparty guests detained. Richie Grayson's found wandering somewhere around the kitchen, completely unapologetic, by Detective Bullock and his _loving husband_.

If Richie greets his sudden appearance by planting one right on him... he _does_ have to play the part of the concerned husband. Might as well make it convincing, right?

He tightens his hands on Jason's arms. Or he could just keep thinking about things he's not supposed to think about. What's the difference?

"All right, all right, I'll leave ya kids alone for now," Bullock grumbles. "But you ain't getting outta making a statement, Grayson! I'll be right there at the door!"

Dick muffles his laughter in Jason's shoulder, Jason who is standing just the slightest bit rigid right there.

"So, _babe_ ," he says, straightening up. And instantly wants to kick himself for it. But. To hell with it. The place is teeming with cops anyway, right? "Where did you go off to when you left me all alone?"

"Well, you see, _sweetheart_." Jason's hands find their way down to Dick's waist and he hates how natural it feels by now. "Pearson had a real serious job offer there for a while, but changed his mind at the last minute. Turns out I didn't really want that job anyway, but..." He winces. "We're probably gonna have to postpone that honeymoon, sorry. And the divorce," he adds in an undertone.

" _Really._ And how're you gonna make that up to me?"

Jason grins. "Oh, Dickiebird, I'm sure I'll think of something."

There's that nickname again.

Dick swallows.

"You know," he murmurs quiet enough no one but them will hear, averting his gaze. This is probably his last chance to back out, he realizes. But maybe Richard Grayson's been a coward for too long at this point. "I didn't know Todd Peters called Richie Grayson that."

Jason starts. "Maybe he does now."

"Yeah? Just now?"

"Maybe a little longer than that?" He looks away. "Can't a guy come up with a new nickname for the guy he married? People do that for other people they like, don't they?"

It is absolutely, ridiculously stupid how Dick's heart still skips a bit at the uncertain look Jason gives him then. Like he isn't sure whether he should have said that at all.

And to think they'd both been so comfortable joking about their sham of a marriage before.

"You know..." Then again. Maybe Dick had been doing more of the good ol' repressing than he'd thought. "Sometimes, you could almost have a guy thinking you mean it." He doesn't even try to sound lighthearted this time.

"Yeah, well," Jason starts, then reluctantly, "Maybe that goes both ways, Dickie."

Dick looks up at him silently. There's probably a lot he could read into that. "Did it really bother you to go on this case?" he asks straight out.

"Rich... Dick." He sighs, hands slipping away from Dick as he moves away from him. "It's not how I'd have preferred to do this, you know."

Dick bites the inside of his cheek. He could leave it at that and take the statement at face value. He could do the smart thing and just step away, go back to their regular relationship as Gotham's Batman and the Red Hood. It's probably ridiculous to think they were ever doing anything more than just acting.

But what would be the point of that, if he's already started this thing?

So he closes the distance between them again and asks, "So does that mean you hated it that much?"

"Uh." The tips of Jason's ears flush red and Dick can't decide whether that's his cue to run the hell away or celebrate his victory. Either way, Jason frowns in concentration and soldiers on. "Well, you know, sometimes you think you're the boss and..." Right. No Batman talk, no matter how quietly they can do it. Jason sounds teasing though, so he'll take that as a good sign. "But no. Not really. I don't know if I really minded it... that much."

"Then..." Dick doesn't bother to finish the sentence. He just wraps his arms around Jason's neck and tilts his head up to meet Jason in a kiss.

A soft brush of lips, Jason's hands finding his shoulders. Then a firmer brush, more pressure behind it, and he's just tilting his head, just barely beginning to deepen the kiss when.

"You kids done yet or what?" Bullock's booming voice rings out again from the kitchen door, startling Dick enough to knock his teeth right into Jason's. And that is definitely, definitely amusement in Bullock's voice, joined by the sound of Babs and Tim laughing in his ear.

Shit, they heard every second of that, too.

Fuck his life.

He groans. "In a second, Detective!"

Jason smiles, a little more subdued, a little shyer then, when he gives Dick some space again. He holds out his arm. "Well, you heard the man. He's waiting. Come on, Dickie. I'm taking you somewhere nice."

Dick can't help it anymore. He laughs and takes his arm.

To hell with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooooo, "there'll only be three chapters," I said, then suddenly found myself 1k words into an epilogue chapter. And to think this fic was originally meant to just be a oneshot. It was interesting trying to limit myself to just a chapter per major event, but oops. So uh, watch this space! For more developments in their relationship! More being awful at talking!
> 
> More of this story growing more than I ever expected!!
> 
> Anyway, I absolutely leaned into New Year's cliches here and you bet I had a blast. Same with dragging up some old 80s villain for this.
> 
> In any case, thank you for reading! ♥


	4. Chapter 4

Valentine's day rolls around and Dick's in Jason's safe house of the week, very careful not to mention what day it is.

There's no need to bring it up at all. It's not like they're dating, after all. Even if that is more or less what Damian called it when he confronted Jason after coming back to Earth.

Or so he's heard.

( _Courting_. He called it _courting_ , then demanded to know how Jason had ruined Dick's taste in _romantic partners_. What is he even supposed to do with that knowledge?)

And so what if, as far as the gossip blogs are concerned, Richie Grayson's still married to his probably-no-longer-a-wannabe-mobster husband? They just haven't given Babs the details for her to plant the story about their divorce yet. That's all.

No, they're just... Doing something that he's not sure he wants to try naming just yet. But it's something that does not even remotely involve Valentine's day. Not even a little bit.

But, to be fair, it's a little hard to have the _what are we_ talk when, more often than not lately, any conversation between them ends with hastily discarded clothes.

Such as on Valentine's Day. Dick hasn't even bothered to put his clothes back on yet this time. For now, he's just thrown on one of Jason's hoodies and called it a day, then wandered out to Jason's kitchen, listening to the rattle of the pipes while Jason showers.

It's still very much a novelty, just being able to wander as he pleases around whatever safe house Jason is staying at for the time. And even that thought is a little surprising to himself, he realizes. They spent plenty of time around each other that month in the penthouse, after all, but this is... different somehow. Like they're just beginning to _exist together_ rather than around each other.

He thinks he could get used to it, maybe.

The pipes go silent and, after stopping to close the fridge he'd been poking around in, he turns around just in time for Jason to step out of the bathroom with a towel slung over his hips.

Huh. Another thing he could get used to, maybe. He's not complaining anyway.

He doesn't miss the way Jason eyes him when he notices him then. And he spares a moment to be glad he never bothered to zip up the hoodie. (And for the heating in the apartment, but. Details.)

Jason stares, eyes widening slightly, and really. He can't get enough of that.

So Dick just grins at him, leaning back with his elbows on the kitchen island. "You have a lot of work tonight?"

He shakes his head. "Not a whole lot. You planning on staying?"

Dick shrugs in answer, all deliberate movements. "We've still got some things to do to close the Pearson case. I figured we could care of them," he says airily, watching as Jason finally seems to remember where he's standing and shakes himself out of it, making his way to where Dick's standing. "Babs and Tim have been going over all the evidence from before and the footage I got." He only pauses for a second, grinning all the wider, as Jason advances on him. "And Babs wants to figure out what we can send the DA without getting it thrown out for how it was acquired and..."

Jason's hands make their way inside the hoodie, warm and solid at Dick's sides, when he reaches him. "And?"

"And." He lifts his head to meet Jason's eyes. "After that, we have to finish updating the files on all of them and, _after that_ , Babs wants to get everything with Richie and Todd squared away." Inches from Jason's lips, he tilts his head up further. "You got time for all that?"

Jason's only response is to lean in, his lips sliding against Dick's own. Dick laughs against his mouth, steadying himself with his hands at Jason's waist. Then he's deepening the kiss, licking into Jason's mouth, and it's not long until he's made short work of that towel.

He doesn't get around to mentioning engineering their fake divorce for the rest of the day. But, in his defense, it's a little hard when he ends up falling into bed again with the guy he's supposed to be pretending to divorce.

-

Jason doesn't go to the manor for Thanksgiving. Dick doesn't try to make him go either.

It's not like any of them really _do_ the whole family Thanksgiving thing or whatever, especially not in recent years. But Alfred still makes more than enough food to go around and maybe people just coincidentally happen to drop by the manor just in time for dinner--for several years in a row.

So he spends the day at the manor, dodging questions from Tim and _questions_ from Damian, and spending a much quieter time with Cass. And by the time dinner starts, Bruce hasn't asked about Jason and he hasn't brought up Jason up in front of him.

Surprisingly, that doesn't actually make him feel any better.

The whole time, he tries to not even _think_ about Jason in front of him, which turns out to be a lot harder than he expected. But the thing is Bruce still hasn't directly brought up the whole Pearson-Withers case and Dick's not about to invite him to do it. Hell, he has no idea what he'd even _say_ , how he'd even explain the whole thing to Bruce, of all people. It was mortifying enough having Tim and Babs there as witnesses to the whole thing, not to mention the look Damian gave him when he finally came back was louder than anything he could have said.

The world must take pity on him though, because dinner goes off without a hitch, not even a whisper of galas and marriage and weapons smuggling. Before he knows it, everything's been cleared away, Damian's half-asleep, Tim's already wandered off somewhere, and Dick's saying his goodbyes.

That's when Alfred stops him in the foyer and presses a bundle into his hands.

"For Master Jason," he says knowingly. "And do try to convince him to come next year. He's been away for long enough."

Dick laughs. "I'll do my best, Al. Promise."

Him actually accepting that invitation is pretty unlikely, if Dick's honest with himself, but who is he to refuse Alfred such a simple request? The thought of Alfred's reaction if Jason actually shows next year is more than enough to convince him to at least try anyway.

Someone clears their throat behind him. From the look Alfred aims over Dick's shoulder then, he can immediately tell who it is.

Oh no.

Slowly, Dick turns around to face Bruce, who he realizes must have heard what he and Alfred were talking about. And who's probably ready to finally do something about the elephant in the room with the fake wedding ring.

Oh great.

As he looks up at Bruce, he tightens his fingers around the bundle Alfred gave him and tells himself he is absolutely ready for anything he might have to say. Absolutely. It's been almost a year, after all. He can take it.

But, instead, he finds himself gaping when all Bruce says is, "Say hello to Jason for me, if you can." Bruce shoots Alfred a look then that, if Dick's eyes don't deceive him, might just be sheepish. "For all of us."

Dick blinks. "Yeah. Yeah, I can do that. I..." He thinks he might smile, but he's not very sure just what his face ends up doing. "Yeah, okay, will do. I gotta go though." He's babbling. Oh, this is more mortifying than if Bruce had just brought up the damn case. "See ya later, guys!"

In record time, he's out of the manor and on his bike.

Once he's seated, he stops and lets himself _breathe_ for a moment. That went... a lot better than he expected. So much better that he's not sure what to make of it just yet.

But he pushes it out of his mind for now. He's got someone to visit.

He doesn't need to think very hard on where to find Jason. The safe house farthest from the manor while still being inside the Gotham city limits is just too obvious of a choice. It's obvious enough he probably shouldn't even be bothering with it, if not for the fact that Jason probably does know to expect company today.

Soon enough, Dick's knocking on the apartment door like a regular civilian, waiting patiently for Jason to open the door.

When Jason comes into view as he pulls the door open though, a hesitant, almost surprised, smile curling his lips though... Can Dick be blamed for, not so patiently--and after shoving his bundle of food into Jason's arms--throwing his arms around Jason's neck and tugging him down for a kiss?

"Hel _lo_ , Goldie," Jason says when they pull apart. "What's the occasion?"

Dick shrugs, brushing past him to enter the apartment. "Dunno," he lies. "Alfred sent food though. And they all say hi," he says, utterly failing at sounding as casual as he wanted.

The only sound he gets in response is the door to the apartment closing behind him.

He turns back to face Jason and finds Jason giving him an odd look, bottom lip caught between his teeth. "Yeah?" he asks, voice gone just the slightest bit hoarse. "They say hi?"

Dick hesitates, then closes the distance between them again to grab Jason's hand and press a kiss to his cheek. "Yeah," he breathes. " _All_ of them." He squeezes Jason's hand lightly-- _yes, Bruce said it_ \--then uses it to pull him deeper into the apartment. "Come on, Al sent me out with that food especially for you."

For the next few hours, neither of them mentions Bruce or any messages again, but Jason still seems somewhat quieter than usual, still somewhat more thoughtful. Dick almost brings it up more than once, then discards the thought. Frankly, if it were him, he's not sure he'd appreciate someone bringing it up just yet.

And it's when they've gone up to the roof, sitting side by side against the barrier, that Jason brings it up again. "Did B say anything about..."

Dick shakes his head, flashing him a lopsided smile. "Nah. Looks like we don't have to deal with any questions about our _marriage_ for now. He barely even talked about work at all today."

Jason snorts. "Barely? When'd he get sick?"

Dick stretches his legs out in front of him. It's quiet here and just isolated enough, just far away enough from where anyone could be eavesdropping, that he only lowers his voice slightly as he says, " _Barely_. He's fine, he still wanted to know how Batman's doing on tracking down the Penguin this time."

"Of course he did." Jason rolls his eyes. "And what's the other big man doing? Throwing parties with the League?"

"Something like that," he says dryly. "I think they've got another big thing coming soon. On Earth this time, at least." He scrunches up his nose. "Or almost on Earth, he didn't give me a lot of details."

"So what? He ever planning on patrolling in Gotham more than every once in a while?"

Dick frowns. Yeah, he really doubts Jason's wishing Bruce were around Gotham more often there. Things aren't quite the same as before between them, but there's still some definite awkwardness there. "What? Don't like the new guy on the job?" he tries, tone light. "And here I thought you did."

Jason sighs. "Look," he says, reluctant. "You're fine. It's just weird, okay? I'm still not used to you having _that_ job."

"It's been a couple years now..." he says carefully. Jason's getting at something here. He's just not entirely sure it's what he thinks it is.

"Yeah, well, sue me. You ain't exactly new on the job anymore, but I see you in that cowl and that cape and it's still just... It's still fucking weird, Dickie. I'm not saying I hate you on the job or anything. Even if..." He cuts his eyes at Dick. "I think sometimes you forget it's you and not B in there."

Dick shakes his head. Shit. Maybe it _was_ what he thought. "No, I didn't mean it like that. I wasn't asking you to reassure me or anything. And I'm sorry, I know sometimes I--"

"No, shit, don't apologize. I didn't mean..." He blows out a sigh, leaning back against the barrier. "I don't know. But don't apologize for shit if you don't really mean it."

" Jason..."

"It's fine," he says tightly.

Dick taps his fingers against his thigh. He does, strangely enough, think he understands. "It's still weird to me, too," he says before he can stop to think about it, an olive branch.

"What?"

"Sometimes just having that cape on still surprises me when it weighs me down in a fight. Sometimes I'm still expecting to have a better view of everything when I turn, or to take off something a lot lighter when I get home at the end of the day."

"Dick."

Dick looks up at the night sky, then back at Jason. "I sometimes still miss being Nightwing, you know?" He laughs. "Maybe more than just sometimes."

Jason's silent for one long moment, during which Dick can practically see the gears in his head turning. "He can't come back at least every once in a while?"

Dick's mouth twists in something he thinks might not actually be a smile at all. "B's gone too often. And when he's around... I don't know. It just feels like Nightwing's retired for good by now. It's been so long, who'd still take him seriously now?"

Jason rolls his eyes. "They all would. Shit, it'd scare the hell outta them when he shows up out of nowhere."

"Jason..." He doesn't. He doesn't really have an answer to that.

"You don't have to if you really don't want to. But you could." The words come out soft, Jason's voice barely there.

But they still have something loosening in his chest.

Dick laughs again. And if the sound isn't quite as steady this time, no need to bring it up. "You suggesting a Nightwing and Red Hood team up someday? That what this is?"

Jason bumps his shoulder against Dick's. "You'd cramp the Red Hood's style, but you know what? Yeah, I think that's exactly what I'm suggesting. Maybe Nightwing won't even try to take charge of anything."

"Well..." Dick says, leaning in close enough to brush his lips against Jason's jaw. "Why don't you tell me all about your plans, then..."

He doesn't get around to mentioning the divorce this time either.

-

The morning of Christmas day finds Dick in Jason's bed. Or one of his safe houses' beds. Whatever. He's been in so many of them by now he barely bothers to differentiate between them when he doesn't need to.

He wakes slowly, and doesn't immediately recognize where he is. But he's comfortable enough to not really care, with a solid chest under him and an arm around his waist that pulls him closer when he stirs.

He shifts, burying his nose in the dip of Jason's collarbone.

"Go back to sleep," Jason grumbles under him, hiding his face in the pillow.

"M'rry Christmas," Dick mumbles right back.

There's something... Something important he meant to talk to Jason about today, but it's already slipping away.

He thinks he drifts for a while. He doesn't know how long, but when he blinks again, Jason's rolled over. His hand's rubbing slowly up and down his back and Dick almost, almost, just lets himself close his eyes again.

Loath as he is to say anything that might make Jason stop doing that, he's beginning to remember what he meant to say.

"You know," Dick says slowly. "We do still have to do something about that divorce."

Jason breathes out a laugh. "So we do." He falls silent for several moments, hand steady on his back. "We haven't figured anything out yet though."

Dick yawns. "What d'you mean we haven't? The trauma of the whole New Year's thing, finding out what your job really was, I don't know. Take your pick and leak it to the papers."

"It's been almost a year since that, Dick, the public doesn't even remember it anymore, or care anymore."

Dick huffs. "Well, we do, right? We can make it believable." Dick rolls over as well, pushing Jason to lay on his back again. "A fake divorce shouldn't be a lot of effort, Jason."

"Probably not," he agrees. "But it's probably gonna be. Vicki Vale's gonna be looking for records this time."

"I told Babs we should have denied it from the start," Dick mutters.

Jason ignores him. "I've covered my tracks for this identity, but I don't know how Todd Peters is gonna get outta this one. Till he met Richie, he was pretty off the grid."

Dick snorts. "Your Todd Peters identity is already fucked, Jason. Let them look for the guy who doesn't exist."

"He doesn't even have a birth certificate. He was supposed to have changed his name at some point." Jason pauses. "You know," he says suddenly, with the air of someone who's just remembered something. "Now that I think about it, _technically_ , there's no death certificate for me anywhere anymore. Or a birth certificate, for that matter."

Dick props his chin up on Jason's chest and waits till Jason looks back down at him. "Yeah? You mean cause of everything during the No Man's Land?"

"Yeah. I could pull that off with Todd Peters, too. Make him disappear for good."

"Hmm, see, problem solved." His lips twitch into a smile. "Wait, does that mean Jason Todd could officially show up again if he wanted to?"

" _Ugh_ , no. Some people still remember me. I'm pretty sure the papers talked about me dying and I am so not explaining how I'm still alive if someone decides to dig back far enough."

Dick hums in answer. It's strange. There's still a little kneejerk emotional twitch, still a momentary urge to just hide his face in Jason's shoulder and cry. But he thinks he can almost hear him mention his death now without being bothered too much. Almost.

"That's a shame," he says, deadpan, tracing a finger down Jason's chest. "To think we could have sold Vicki Vale the story about how I left Todd Peters for Jason Todd. It'd have been a real scandal."

Jason laughs. "No fucking thank you. _If_ no one remembers Jason Todd, then there's gonna be some questions about why he looks so much like Todd Peters."

Dick grins. "But think of the story. Jason Todd fakes his death and changes his name to Todd Peters to break into the mob, and now he's in Gotham City, come back to seduce that one guy he knew when he was a teenager."

Jason narrows his eyes at him. "No."

" _Or_ ," Dick says, not the slightest bit ashamed to admit he's warming to the topic. "You can talk all about how Todd Peters was your long-lost twin brother, separated at birth and you never knew what--"

" _Jesus Christ_ , Dick! How many daytime soaps have you even been watching lately?"

Dick rolls his eyes. Please, as if Dick didn't turn on the TV in the penthouse last year more than once only to find it was already on the soaps channel.

He can see Jason fighting back a smile anyway.

"Why don't you just go and get a marriage certificate with Jason Todd while you're at it. Really play up your _second_ whirlwind romance story."

"All without official divorce papers!" And Dick should keep his mouth shut. He is absolutely going to regret the words just raring to come out of his mouth. But his self-control's been turning to shit around Jason lately anyway. He's not sure it's ever been very good around Jason. "Seriously, _Mister Todd_. Are you suggesting we go and get married for real just to avoid coming up with a real divorce story?"

"What? Fuck--" Jason gapes at him. "I didn't mean it that way!"

"Really?" And this really would be a good time for someone to shut him up. "So that wasn't your way of proposing to me? Because it does seem a little early for this, don't you think--"

"Jesus Christ, shut up!"

Dick bursts into laughter, not even trying to hold it back anymore. "But you were being so romantic."

Jason groans. "I'm calling Babs tomorrow. Gimme all your stuff, Dick, I'm bleeding you dry."

"No! You can't just do it like that. It's more like..." Dick pushes himself up on his elbows so he can hover over Jason. Very, very seriously, he says, "Todd Peters. Would you do me the honor of divorcing me?"

" _Ugh_!"

Jason shoves him away and rolls over to face away from him, grumbling all the while.

He takes all the damn covers, too.

Until Dick worms right back under them, laughing all the while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After the main story ended up being structured around a couple holidays, I thought, well why not do the same for the epilogue, right? That way I could get them all the way to a year later, with some glimpses of how they were doing on the way.
> 
> Sooo that's it then! The end of this lighthearted little story that just wouldn't quit growing. Thank you so much to everyone for reading! ♥


End file.
